Some Nights
by hollyboo2001
Summary: Frank Hardy never seems to have much luck in love. Work always gets in the way. Just as things start looking up, an old love dies mysteriously. Frank puts his own life on the line to solve the mystery. Rated M for reasons. Slash, vampires and bears, oh my! Okay, there are no bears.
1. The Last Straw

Chapter 1: The Last Straw

"I don't know how you do this." Eric Langhorne rested his elbows on his knees as he turned to Frank Hardy. They were seated in Bayport Memorial Hospital's emergency waiting room, awaiting news on Frank Hardy's younger brother Joe's condition. The older Hardy brother turned to Eric, chocolate brown eyes blinking tiredly.

"It's not easy, but it's part of the job sometimes." Frank replied flatly. They'd solved their latest mystery, bagged the culprits, but things did not end as clean and tidy as anyone would have liked.

Frank was sporting a sling to ease the strain on his dislocated (and now relocated) shoulder. Joe Hardy had tackled one of the suspects and sustained a couple of stab wounds in the ensuing struggle for the suspect's knife, and that was what had brought them to their current vigil.

Joe's fiancée, Vanessa Bender, sat beside the brothers' mother, Laura, her blonde head resting on the older woman's shoulder. The family patriarch, Fenton Hardy, paced to and fro across the waiting room, nervous energy and worry fueling his pace, and making it impossible to sit still.

"You're going to wear a hole in the linoleum, Fenton." Mrs. Hardy mentioned wearily. Mr. Hardy halted. "I'm fidgety." He replied, as he ran a hand through his salt and pepper hair.

"Why don't you find a vending machine? I could use a caffeine boost." Laura opened her purse to get out some change until Fenton stopped her.

"I've got it, Hon." he dug into his pockets, the silvery coins rattling as he pulled them out.

"I'll go with you Mr. H," spoke up Chet Morton from the other corner of the room where he, Phil Cohen and Biff Hooper, the boys' lifelong friends, had been sharing in the family's wait. "I need to stretch my legs anyway. You two need anything?"

"I'm good, Phil?"

"Phil?"

"Hey, um, what?" Phil looked up suddenly from where he'd been lost in thought.

"Wanna Pepsi?"

"Nah, I'm fine." Chet shrugged and turned to follow Fenton out into the hallway.

Phil tried to resume his train of thought as he sat back, glancing across the room to Eric and Frank. Although he was bruised and scraped up, Frank still looked handsome as always. The fringe of his chestnut brown hair spilled over onto his forehead, Phil itched to take his fingers and brush them out of the way. Frank sat shoulder to shoulder with Eric, gently rubbing the knuckles of his left hand against Eric's knee, a small (but big for Frank) display of comfort and affection (as if _Eric_ was the one in need of it right now), but the other man seemed not to notice. Instead he appeared to be a thousand miles away himself, staring out to some fixed point, mulling over something serious.

Eric was a pale, tall, ginger haired young man. He was nice looking, enough, and he seemed nice, _enough_. He _seemed_ to make Frank happy, but lately he had noticed an air of tension between the two. He hoped their relationship wasn't about to take a nosedive after this mess. Even though he could be stubborn at times, Frank was an old soul and he had a heart of gold in Phil's eyes. But Phil could never figure out why he never seemed to be very lucky in love. If anyone deserved to be happy, it was Frank Hardy. And if anyone ever had the worst timing in the world, it was Phil Cohen. Every time Phil thought he might ask Frank out, he was already dating someone, had just broken up with them (there was no way Phil was going to allow himself to be someone's rebound again, been there, done that) or was up to his elbows in a mystery and it was just not the right time.

"I need some fresh air." Speak of the devil, thought Phil. Frank glanced up at his boyfriend and Eric leaned over, gave Frank a peck on the top of his head, and exited the room. Biff stood too, stretching his tall frame until his fingertips could nearly touch the dropped ceiling tiles above him.

"I'm going to get some air too." He playfully smacked at the foot Frank had resting on his knee as he walked past. When they were gone Frank ran his free hand over his face, trying to massage his temples with his thumb and over extended middle finger.

"Lemme guess, you haven't taken the meds the ER doctor gave you?" Phil's remark caused Laura and Vanessa to sit up and Frank groaned.

"Asshat!"

_"_Eeyngeshparter!"*

"Franklin!"

"Frank, c'mon, at least a half of one to take the edge off." Vanessa pleaded with her future brother-in-law.

"I'm afraid it'll knock me out, I want to be alert when we get news about Joe." defended Frank, "and a half one might make me too loopy to drive."

"Unless you haven't noticed pal, you dislocated your right shoulder," said Phil, "you can't drive anyway."

"Do you wanna make a bet?"

"Frank, be reasonable." Laura's tone meant only one thing - even though her oldest son was an adult and freshly graduated from college, this argument was over. Frank groaned again, this time in defeat, and fumbled for the pill bottle in his jeans pocket.

….

An hour later the family and friends had reconvened in the waiting room, slightly more alert from the fresh night air, short walks, and caffeine. With the exception of Frank, who had finally succumbed to the effects of the pain medication and was softly snoring in the crook of Eric's shoulder and neck.

Dr. Bates, the ER's attending physician entered the room and approached Mr. and Mrs. Hardy. Eric tried to gently shake Frank awake, but he only snuffled in the material of Eric's shirt and continued to sleep.

"How is he?" burst out Vanessa, anxious for news. Dr. Bates smiled warmly at the young woman, "He'll be fine, Miss Bender. He's stable and awake, but we're going to admit him to the ICU for twenty four hours of observation. He lost quite a bit of blood, but we've sutured …"

The details of Joe's injuries had started to blur together for Eric. In a nutshell, Joe was going to live, but he was going to be laid up for a while. There was a significant amount of blood loss, the puncture wounds had come dangerously close to a main artery.

That could have been Frank.

From what Frank, his friends and family could tell him, this was not either brother's first brush with death or serious injury. Considering the career path Frank and Joe had chosen, this would not be the last.

Eric felt like an ice-cold hand was squeezing his heart. He'd lost his beloved mother to a heart attack when he was fifteen years old. His father had kicked him out when he'd come out to him and moved in with his grandmother during his junior year, and later drank himself to death before Eric could graduate from high school. He lost a friend he'd gone to high school with to suicide, and another to a hate crime. His dear grandmother who had taken him in suffered a debilitating stroke and was currently receiving palliative care in a hospice. For Eric, it seemed everyone he loved or held dear in his life was taken away. Wasn't all that he'd lost been enough loss for one lifetime?

Eric glanced down at Frank's sleeping face, and then over to Vanessa. Vanessa was so strong, so positive. As she was rising to follow Dr. Bates and Mr. and Mrs. Hardy to the ICU, she smiled at Eric. She was radiant, despite the late hour. Joe was going to be okay, and she would be there for him, every step of the way.

What if that was Frank in ICU? What if Frank had been a breath away from dying? He had fallen head over heels for Frank, he'd come to love him more than he'd loved anyone in his adult life. But the thought of losing yet someone else, Eric couldn't bear it.

…..

It was still dark outside when Biff and Phil helped Eric get Frank into Biff's SUV, and arrived at Frank and Joe's flat across town. The going was slow, but they finally managed to walk a semi- conscious Frank to the elevator, into the apartment, out of his soiled, bloody clothes, and gently eased him into his bed.

"Are you going to stay and look after him tonight?" Phil asked once Eric had pulled the covers just under Frank's chin.

"Yeah." Eric sighed. He walked Biff and Phil to the door.

"Call us if you need us, I know Mr. and Mrs. H are going to be tied up with Joe until they release him from the hospital." Said Biff.

"Will do." Eric tried to sound appreciative for their concern, but he had too much on his mind. As he locked the deadbolt to the door and turned out the lights in the den, the events and emotions of the night seemed to press down on him like a dead weight.

In a few hours it would be daylight, Frank would wake up and would want to see his brother. In a few days, when he was sure Frank would be okay, and that Joe would be okay, he knew he had to do one thing. He and Frank were going to have to have a long talk.

Authors note:

*Eeyngeshparter - Yiddish for a stubborn person.


	2. New Beginnings

Chapter 2: New Beginnings

A year passed. Frank's shoulder finally limbered up, and Joe had made a full recovery. By the end of May, the President of Bayport University handed Joe Hardy a Bachelors degree in Criminal Science, and Vanessa Bender a Bachelor of Arts in Photography. Both brothers were now full partners with their father in Hardy Investigations.

Life marched on.

Joe and Vanessa decided to move in together about a month ago, one floor down from his and Frank's apartment. That left Frank with a vacant bedroom, and rent to make up for. In a way he was relieved, Joe and Vanessa weren't exactly quiet people, and once they had set a date for the wedding, Vanessa had gone "Bridezilla" crazy nearly overnight. If he had to hear about china patterns, bridal registries or various shades of taffeta one more time he swore he was going to scream. Joe seemed to be in a dreamy daze whenever Vanessa was around regardless of the mood she was in. Must be true love.

Eric was long gone. Frank had felt it coming for some time, but that still didn't soften the blow when Eric had sat down with him for a heart to heart talk. And when Eric had given him an ultimatum, Frank really couldn't blame him for leaving. He'd loved Eric, but being a detective was in his blood, a part of who he was. Eric would never be able to sway him to another career. He understood why Eric had been scared, the man had a very tragic life, and the nature of the cases that came across his desk was often not for the faint of heart. One example of this was the latest string of murders in the next township over. With expertise in serial killing cases, Fenton had been approached to consult with the local authorities.

The dangers involved in criminal investigations had always been the main argument that ended the few relationships Frank had in his young life. Now Frank had been alone for nearly a year. But that was fine, he told himself. He was too busy anyway, with clients to contact, leads to follow, research to do, stake outs to sit through. Busy, busy, busy. This had not gone unnoticed by his father, who, even though he was eternally grateful for his sons' help in the family business, was more concerned for their happiness and well being. A weekend off was well overdue.

"All work and no play makes Frankie a dull boy!" called Biff Hooper through Frank's apartment door. Frank unlocked his door and opened it to find Biff, Chet and Phil waiting in the hall.

"We've decided you need to get out, sow some wild oats and let your hair down." Chet announced jovially, "Don't worry, we're buying."

"Chet needs a wingman" Phil added sarcastically.

"I hate to disappoint, but I make for a terrible wingman." Frank chuckled, turning from the door. "C'mon in, I guess I'm up for going out, especially since you're buying. So who's the DD tonight?"

"Yours truly." answered Biff.

"Seriously?"

"Hey, I resemble that remark!" Biff teased as he plopped onto the sofa.

"Where are we going?"

"Pasquale's." replied Phil as he took a seat on the armchair across from Biff.

"Is that the place Tony and his older brother opened together?"

"Yeah, and I hear they attract a mixed crowd." Chet waggled an eyebrow at Frank.

"Does that mean you're my wingman tonight too?" That caught Chet by surprise. Frank got a good laugh out of friend's discomfort, but the former big boned boy finally cottoned on to Frank's joke and chucked too.

"Good to hear you laugh again." Phil said, smiling.

"It feels good to laugh again."

"You've been in mourning long enough, when was the last time you got laid?"

"Nice, Biff." Phil snarked as Frank reddened at the question. Unlike his more athletic and charismatic friend Biff, Frank had never been one for one- night stands or hook-ups.

Truth was, at nearly twenty four years old Frank was technically still a virgin, emphasis on technically. Sure he'd made out with Callie Shaw in high school, and a boyfriend or two in his college years. But no relationship had lasted long enough to go all the way, at least at the pace he was comfortable with. Eric had been the first boyfriend to last longer than six months without growing impatient for more than rutting or a hand job.

As the young men headed for the door, Frank grabbed his wallet and jacket and checked his hair in the hall mirror.

"Fraaank, your hair looks fine." Phil whined as he came up behind the brunette. Frank turned around, looking Phil Cohen straight in the eyes. Those honey colored hazel eyes that twinkled when he smiled or laughed.

Of all Frank's longtime friends, Phil was the first one, after his own brother and family, that he came out to. Biff, Tony, and Chet each took their own time coming to terms with this slight change in their friendship. But coming out to Phil was easy, Phil had done the very same thing with his own family just seven months before, during senior year of high school. This common denominator in their lives had given the two a closer bond in their friendship. The older Hardy brother even once had a crush on the raven haired computer nerd. Phil was as tall as Frank, and had what one would call exotic good looks with wavy, jet black hair, and full lips. But Phil's taste in men appeared to include the artsy type. The last Frank could remember Phil was dating someone who was working his way into the fashion industry. Come to think of it, it had been a while since Phil had even mentioned anything about him.

"Er, Phil where is Dave – er, Dan, these days?" Frank asked.

"Oy Frank, you are out of the loop." Phil scoffed, "He's been history for months. Walked into the flat one night and found Dan bent over the sofa with his pants around his ankles and some mamzer* banging him for all he was worth. "It's not what it looks like" he said. Feh, geh gesund!"*

"And Phil's been on my couch ever since!" lamented Biff. By now the group had made their way down to Biff's SUV.

"Well maybe you two could be each other's wingman tonight." Chet added.

"Enough with the wingman thing already!"

"Hey, I'm just sayin'…"

...

A half an hour later they pulled into the parking lot of Pasquale's. The dinner crowd had thinned out and the younger bar hoppers had gathered for a night of drinking and dancing. The lights were turned down and the music turned up to a level that Frank was not used to.

"Why did I agree to this?" Frank nearly shouted to his companions.

"Because you need to rejoin the land of the living." Biff answered back, just as loud.

"And the ladies love you!"

"Chet, that doesn't help me or them."

"I know, but it can't hurt my chances." Chet grinned back.

Tony Prito, dapperly dressed for his new role as a co-owner of one of Bayport's newest hot spots, arrived at their table with a round of beers and a bottled water for Biff.

"Compliments of the ladies sitting in the corner over there." Biff and Chet each looked past Tony's shoulder to see two attractive women, one a short, curvy blonde, the other a taller, tanned brunette, smiling at them.

"Well, I say we go over there and say a proper thank you." Chet grabbed his bottle and followed Biff over to the other table. The ladies' shoulders dropped slightly in disappointment when they noticed Frank and Phil weren't joining them. Frank raised his bottle and mouthed a "Thank you" to them, then turned to Phil.

"So why didn't you tell me about Dan, and moving in with Biff?"

"Eh, you've been busy, and distracted."

"And I've had a vacancy for over a month now…"

"I thought maybe you needed the time to yourself, what with the big breakup, and then Joe moving out." Phil shrugged shyly and turned his attention back to his beer.

"Phil Cohen, would you like to move in with me?" Phil's face reddened and he looked back up at Frank.

"Seriously?"

"Well, why not? You need somewhere to live other than Biff's sofa in his already crowded apartment, I need a roommate. We've known each other almost all our lives, and I know you're good for your half of the rent..."

"I don't know Frank." Phil ran a hand through is wavy black hair.

"Can you think of one good reason why not?"

"Oh please, Frank. Don't give me the puppy eyes. No one can resist the puppy eyes!" Phil laughed as Frank batted his eyes and poked out his bottom lip.

"Is that a yes then?" Frank laid his hand on Phil's wrist. The darker haired boy choked on his laughter and looked right into Frank's chocolatey brown eyes.

"Yes, Frank, I'll move in with you. Are you doing anything tomorrow?"

"Nope, Dad's orders, no work tomorrow for this workaholic. Want me to see if Chet and Biff can help out with the move?" Both of them turned to see how the other two were doing with the ladies in the corner. Chet actually had the curvy blonde giggling and touching his shoulder, the tall brunette with Biff had a dreamy expression on her face as she listened to Biff regale her with details of some brilliant play from his football glory days.

"I think you're going to need to text Joe, we may not hear out of those two until lunchtime tomorrow."

"One step ahead of you." Frank tapped for a minute on his phone. A soft ping later, and Frank smiled and put his phone back in his pocket. "Joe's on board, I'll call him again when I get up in the morning and we'll head over to Biff's."

"A toast," Phil raised his nearly finished beer, "to new beginnings!" Frank raised his and clinked it against Phil's bottle.

"To new beginnings."

A few beers later Frank found himself in a mood he hadn't felt in a long, long time. He actually felt happy, carefree, things were looking up. Sure, it was probably the alcohol, the celebratory atmosphere of the bar, or the light-hearted conversations with his friends and acquaintances. But laughing felt good, dancing felt good. Dancing with Phil felt good. Oh lord, he was dancing with Phil Cohen!

It hadn't started out that way. A few ladies that Phil knew from work had asked them to dance because their boyfriends didn't want to. Apparently those boyfriends changed their minds a few songs later and joined in. Frank and Phil were heading back to their table when a slow song started to play.

"C'mon, roomie-to-be, dance with me." Phil tugged on Frank's wrist to keep him on the dance floor. Frank hesitated until he noticed the number of gay pairings swaying to the music nearly matched the number of straight ones. That made him feel a bit more comfortable, he usually wasn't one to flaunt his preference, or indulge in public displays of affection (one ex-girlfriend and three ex-boyfriends could attest to that).

"Mind if I lead?" Phil placed his hand on Frank's waist and slotted the fingers of his right hand with those of Frank's left.

"Please do." Frank felt the gentle pressure of the hand on his waist guide him into a lulling sway. Phil's hands were warm, Frank could even feel the heat through his cotton shirt. He wanted to move closer, maybe even rest his head on Phil's shoulder, but he was afraid his new roommate would detect how quickly his heart was now beating in his chest - or worse, the stirrings of something else below his waist. To distract himself he cleared his throat to speak.

"For a computer nerd you're actually quite good at this." Phil laughed quietly, his warm breath tickling Frank's cheek.

"For a private dick you're a pretty good dancer too." Frank chuckled at Phil's play on words.

"It comes in handy when you're undercover. You definitely don't want to draw attention to yourself in certain situations because you can't dance, of all things." Frank sobered for a moment. "Speaking of which, you realize there will times when I'm just not there, probably weeks on end. No communication, whatsoever."

"I'll be sure to water your plants and feed the goldfish." Phil snarked.

"Phil…"

"How long have I known you? Hell, how many times have I been in the thick of it with you and Joe?" Phil's face was suddenly serious. "I'm moving in with you, I'm not marrying you."

Frank stiffened. Well of course not! Oh good Lord, where had he allowed his mind to go? Just a few hours ago he was living alone, now Phil had agreed to move in as a roommate, to share the rent. Frank tried to recover before Phil realized how he'd let his beer-addled mind wander.

"Oh! I know, I – I just thought it was fair to let you know." Phil shot him an incredulous look.

Just then the beat of the music picked up, the slow song was over and the girls they had danced with earlier looked like they were heading their way again.

"Are you thirsty?"

"Parched."

"Frank!" Frank turned around to the sound of his own name. Who would be approaching them as they stepped up to the bar but Eric Langhorne. He had added a few blonde highlights to his already bright red hair, but he seemed almost paler than before. The taller man walked up to the older Hardy and enveloped him in a bear hug. When Eric let go Frank quickly stepped back.

"Eric, hi. How've you been?"

"Great, never better!" Eric was flanked by two others.

On one side a statuesque black woman, with skin so dark it seemed to have a bluish tint to it. She had almond shaped eyes and her hair was clipped very short to her head. The woman didn't appear to be wearing makeup, but she didn't need it, she was simply drop-dead gorgeous. The man on Eric's right wasn't quite as tall as he was, but still taller than Frank and Phil, with a musculature that even Biff would envy. He was indeed the woman's exact opposite, where she was dark, this man was pale, paler than Eric. Even his hair was a whitish blonde, worn slicked back and away from his face, and eyes a pale blue. But as his coloration was slightly creepy, he was in his own right a very good looking man. Both of them were dressed like they had just stepped out of a 5th Avenue window display.

"Eric," said the pale man, "are you not going to introduce us to your friends?" Frank could not quite make out his accent, but his tone was definitely admonishing.

"Oh! I'm so sorry!" Eric seemed overly apologetic, "Guys this is Magnus Haraldson…" the pale man nodded toward the boys, "And this lovely lady is Amy Johnson."

"_Ameyo_, but I let my friends call me Amy." said the heavily accented woman as she held out her hand, which Frank and Phil shook in turn. Her hand was cool to the touch, but she had just been holding a cocktail glass with something on the rocks.

"My friends, this is Frank Hardy and Phil Cohen..." Although he may have been over-thinking it, Frank could have sworn he noticed a difference in how Eric casually referred to him and Phil as "guys", and took an almost formal tone with "my friends."

"Well, it is very good to meet you both. Frank, Eric has told me quite a lot about you." Magnus said. Surprised, Frank turned to Eric, noticing that the ginger haired man was blushing furiously.

"Ah, well, all good I hope?"

"Indeed." The pale man turned to Eric as well, maybe expecting him to finish the conversation for him.

"I – I told my friends here how you and I had dated, about your detective work."

"Eric!" Amy cut in, "is he the young man who you said was the love…"

"Oh my, would you look at the time?" Eric interjected, looking at his companions pleadingly. "Magnus didn't you say you had a meeting in the morning?" Magnus gave him a sharp look, but then nodded.

"Yes, I do have a few engagements in the morning." The pale man turned to Frank and Phil. "It was a pleasure meeting you both. I do hope we will have the pleasure again sometime." After a slight bow he walked away, Amy waived daintily, Eric stayed behind for just a moment.

"It really was good to see you again Frank." He firmly grasped Frank's shoulder and he hesitated, like he couldn't decide if he wanted to say something else. Then he looked at Phil.

"Take care of him." Eric quickly left to catch up with his party. Frank stood there, watching him go.

"Are you okay?" Phil asked. Frank blinked, and let out a breath.

"Yeah." He turned to look at Phil. "You still want that drink?"

"Indeed." Phil said airily.

Author's Note:

*mamzer- Yiddish: bastard

*Feh, geh gesund - Yiddish: Eh, good riddence!


	3. Some Nights

Chapter 3: Some Nights

"So would you like to see your new accommodations?" Frank giggled as he fumbled with the keys to his apartment. So much for Biff Hooper being a designated driver. He had kept to his word, he stuck to bottled water and soft drinks during the evening. However, with the plans he and Chet were tentatively making with the ladies they'd just met, the SUV was going to be a bit crowded for the ride home.

Phil and Frank caught a cab and finally arrived at the apartment around two-thirty in the morning. As they stumbled into the den, Phil bumped his hip against a table under the hall mirror, nearly knocking over a small lamp.

"Shhhh…." Phil scolded the object.

"Pfft.. Phil, why are you trying to be quiet?" Frank whispered hoarsely.

"Why are you whispering? We're the only ones here." They both burst out laughing, leaning against each other.

"Lemme see that room!" Phil slurred. They managed to not run into anymore furniture as they approached Joe's old room. Frank flipped on the overhead light, causing Phil to hiss.

"The light! Ahhhh! Too bright!" he cried dramatically. Frank laughed and turned the light out.

"That's okay, nothin' in there to see anyway." Frank turned them back toward the den. "You'll have your own bath though."

"Oh thank the Lord! I love Biff and Chet like brothers, but sharing a bathroom with those two…"

"Oh my G-d Phil, I think I'm going to be sick." Frank made a choking sound, left Phil and headed toward his room.

"What? They're not _that_ bad."

When Phil finally caught up with him, he could hear retching sounds coming from Frank's bathroom. The dark haired boy leaned against the door jamb of the bathroom, by now Frank had finished, his head resting against the cool toilet seat.

"Wash cloth?" he asked. Frank weakly pointed to the cabinet under the sink. Phil got out one, wet it with cold water and handed it to Frank. The brunette wiped his face with the proffered rag, then looked up at Phil miserably.

"Lightweight." Phil teased. He had gotten out another cloth to wipe down his own face, clear the cobwebs in a way. "Need a little help?"

"Sure." Frank said quietly as he reached over and flushed the toilet. Phil helped him to his feet and made to help him to bed.

"Can you give me a minute?"

"'Kay." Phil stepped out of the bathroom, but before he could ask Frank where the spare blankets and pillows were, Frank had closed the bathroom door.

Fifteen minutes later Frank walked out of the bathroom, teeth brushed (Thank G-d!) freshly showered and a towel draped around his waist.

"Feeling better?" He heard Phil call from the kitchen. Frank quickly grabbed a pair of pajama bottoms from the dresser and slipped them on.

"Yeah, kinda, not great." He answered as he entered the kitchen. His friend was sitting at the bar sipping on a bottle of water. Phil had to avert his eyes for a moment. He'd seen Frank shirtless many times over the years, but at this moment that well toned, shirtless chest was doing things to him.

"Would you like to take a shower? I'll loan you some PJ's, and there's an unopened toothbrush in the medicine cabinet." Frank offered. Phil considered this for a moment, he had worked up a sweat while dancing. And maybe he'd get a chance to take care of what was making his jeans tighter in the front.

When Phil emerged from Frank's bathroom, clean and very, very relaxed, he found the other man already in bed.

"You still awake?" Phil asked, stepping closer to the bed. "Frank?"

"Hmm? Oh, sorry, I dozed off." Frank sat up, rubbing his eyes.

"Well, yeah, it is after three in the morning. Where's a spare pillow and blanket? I'll go crash on the couch till I get my mattress out of storage."

"No, no. Here, there's plenty of room." Frank waved at the space in the queen sized bed.

"Uh," Phil looked at him, but it was hard to see Frank's expression in the dim room. "I dunno…"

"You've been sleeping on a sofa for months, c'mon. I promise not to corrupt your virtue."

"Are you sure it's _my_ virtue that needs protecting?" Phil teased as he sat on the edge of the bed to get a better look at Frank.

Even though Frank's own face was in the shadows, the moonlight coming through the window highlighted the bluish tones in Phil's dark hair. He could just make out the honey color in the other's eyes. Frank's eyes traveled down to Phil's lips, the bottom one was being lightly bitten by it's owner.

That did it. Frank leaned forward and brushed those lips with his. He heard Phil gasp, but the other didn't pull away. Frank cupped Phil's jaw with his hand, feeling the slight prickle of his five o'clock shadow, and pressed again. Phil was kissing him back, turning his head slightly to deepen the kiss. Frank broke away and inhaled to clear is head, it dawned on him what he had started.

"Oh my G-d, Phil, I'm sor…"

"Don't you dare say you're sorry, Frank. You wanted to kiss me didn't you?" Phil asked breathlessly.

"Yes, but…" Frank looked down at his lap.

"I wanted you to." Phil said softly. Frank looked up at him.

"You haven't even moved in yet, I don't want to mess things up."

"Frank?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up." Phil surged forward, grabbed Frank by the shoulders and kissed him. He opened his mouth to run his tongue over the Frank's lips, silently asking for entry. Frank welcomed Phil's warm tongue in, he tasted of mint, and when he inhaled he could smell the fresh soap from his shower. He whimpered slightly when Phil's lips left his, but those lips soon attached themselves to his neck, just below his ear.

Phil trailed kisses down Frank's neck as he moved to straddle his lap, using the hands on Frank's shoulders to lower him back onto his pillow. He then ran his hands down Frank's chest, smooth, but for various scars. There was a story behind each one, and Phil hoped that if he was given the chance in the future, he'd give those battle scars the attention they deserved.

Frank's hands had found the back of Phil's head, running his fingers through the wavy locks.

"Phil, you – that feels so good." Phil ran his tongue over a sensitive spot, causing Frank to buck his hips. He felt Phil's erection rub against his own through the layers of pajama material. Phil hissed and pulled away for a moment.

"Shit, Frank. If you keep that up I won't last much longer." He moved his hips slightly down Frank's lap, and leaned back in to take a nipple between his teeth. Frank shouted a garbled expletive and Phil smiled around the pink bud, using his tongue to tease the sensitive flesh.

"Jesus Phil, you're killing me!"

Phil chuckled, and then he had an idea. He scooted back a little further and ran a finger across Frank's abdomen, just above the waistband of his pajama bottoms.

"Frank, can I get rid of this?" He asked as he plucked at the elastic band. Frank looked up from the pillow.

"Phil, I – uh, I don't think I'm ready for…"

"No, no." Phil soothed, "I won't push you to do anything you're not ready for. I just - I want to make you feel good. Do you trust me?"

"Yeah, I do." Frank smiled and Phil returned it. He then sat up and tugged Frank's pants down his hips, the brunette's erection springing against his belly. He ran a hand over the velvety skin and heard Frank take in sharp breath. Frank wasn't too sure what exactly Phil had in mind, but when the raven haired boy nuzzled the tender skin between his erection and his hip, he started to get a pretty good idea. This was new territory for Frank, he'd never had a blow job, or performed one. But the moment Phil's soft lips closed around him, Frank started to wonder why he had denied himself such pleasure all this time.

Phil bobbed and licked, teasing one moment and engulfing Frank's cock in another. Frank clutched the sheets on either side of his body, his knees started to shake as his arousal built and built. Heat began to pool in the deepest part of him, and he let go of the sheets with one hand to touch the top of Phil's head.

"Phil, Ph – I'm, I'm close. Please!" Phil reached up and grasped Frank's other hand, squeezing it. He came off for just a moment.

"It's okay Frank, this is for you. Just go with it." And then he was teasing the slit at the head, before he took all of Frank in, the head grazing the back of his throat.

The sounds Frank was making were like music to his ears. Every moan and mumbled word caused his erection to throb. Phil placed one hand on Frank's hip for leverage while he thrust the other down his pants and took himself in hand. He hummed around Frank, but stopped when the brunette bucked his hips sharply and cried out. His seed filled Phil's mouth, and that was all it took for Phil to arrive at his orgasm. Phil forced himself to continue to suck until Frank was finally spent.

Frank was dazed and panting. When he finally came to his senses he noticed a weight on his chest. He looked down to find Phil's head there, his arms loosely wrapped around Frank's body.

He pushed the damp black curls away from Phil's forehead and the other boy stirred, looking up Frank sheepishly.

"Phil, that was – oh G-d, I've never felt anything like that before."

"Really?"

"Seriously, I – I don't have a lot of experience." Phil smiled and reached to touch Frank's cheek, "Would you like for me to try the same for you?" asked Frank.

"I don't think you need to worry about that right now, it's taken care of." Frank laughed, and felt his eyelids grow heavier. He yawned so hard he heard and felt his jaw pop. Phil got up from the bed and went into the bathroom, re-emerging with a warm, moist washcloth. He cleaned Frank and himself up, then flopped down beside Frank in the bed. Sleepy and sated, they fell asleep right away.

Author's Note:

Smut. Yay!

Next Chapter, Joe finally makes his grand appearance.


	4. A New Day

Chapter 4: A New Day

Awkward. That would be one word Frank would use to describe the day that followed. Neither he or Phil woke up until nearly lunchtime, and only then because his cell phone was ringing.

"'Lo?" Frank muttered into the phone.

"Frank! I thought you were going to call me when you woke up this morning." Why did Joe's voice have to be so loud? Even the clinking of dishes in the background made Frank wince in pain.

"I was. Not up yet." Joe laughed at his brother. Frank had to hold the phone away from his ear lest his head explode.

"Hard night, huh?" Frank nodded sleepily, but realized that was a stupid thing to do.

"Yeah, you could say that."

"Want me to come up and we'll go grab some lunch?"

"Lunch?"

"Yeah bro, its noon." Frank squinted at his bedside clock in disbelief.

"Crap." Around that time Phil sat up in bed, and mouthed "bathroom" to Frank. The brunette nodded as Phil quietly stepped into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him with a soft click.

"So tell me, did you have a good time last night?"

"Yeah, kicked back, danced a little."

"Oh really, did you get his number?"

"No, nothing like that." Frank didn't really feel like bring up that he saw Eric, and he for darned sure didn't want to talk about Phil, at least not until he and Phil had a chance to talk about what happened last night.

"Well, maybe next weekend Vanessa and I will join you. Van's got a good sense of gaydar."

"Oh for G-d's sake Joe. I don't need you two …"

"Look Frank, you've held the Guinness world record for dry spells long enough…"

"Joe, look, lemme get showered and pull myself together and we'll be down there in a bit."

"_We_?" Oh crap! Frank steeled himself to explain as delicately as he could.

"Chet and Biff wound up having company last night. So I invited Phil to crash here." Joe didn't necessarily need to know exactly _where_ Phil wound up crashing.

"Well, I know he'll be glad to get moved in and not have to camp out on someone's sofa anymore." Oh, if he only knew how glad Phil was.

…..

When it was Frank's turn in the shower Phil called Chet to see if his pickup truck would be available for hauling his belongs from the apartment and his storage unit. He had just hung up with the Chet when Frank joined him in the kitchen for coffee.

"Ahhh, nectar of the gods." Frank purred. Phil had fixed the coffee a little strong, but Frank didn't mind at all.

"Sleep well?" Phil asked casually. Even though it was nothing to be proud of, his alcohol tolerance was built up enough so that he was only suffering from a mild headache this morning. Frank looked like Hell.

"Slept fine. Waking up was a bitch." They laughed until Frank reached for his temples with his fingers. "Oooo."

"Aspirin?"

"Just took some." Frank sighed, "So… do you want to talk about last night?"

"Wondered if we were."

Frank looked up to face Phil, and for the first time in years, the dark haired boy looked vulnerable. It had been Phil that Frank had turned to for guidance all those years ago, it was his shoulder he leaned on when several friends had turned their backs on him because they could not accept him. Phil always seemed so confident with his sexuality, so nonchalant about his relationships. Frank didn't think he'd ever seen such naked emotion on Phil's face. _Well this is it then_. He had to let Phil know how he really felt now before either of them got hurt. Phil deserved to know before he could regret moving in.

"Phil, I don't want you to feel overwhelmed by what I'm about to say. But I've known you for so long, and you've always been there for me. After what happened last night, it wouldn't be fair to you to move in without knowing how I really feel"

Phil drew in a breath. _This is it_, he thought, _he's going to tell me he only likes me as a friend and last night was a mistake. Here you go, Bad Timing Phil strikes again_. He was about to interrupt when Frank held up his hand.

"Please, let me finish." Frank asked. "I like you Phil. I _really_ like you. I've had a crush on you since just after I came out. I just never thought you'd be interested in me since we've been friends forever, and I didn't think I was your type."

"My type?" Phil thought back to his past boyfriends, okay yeah, they were a little on the flamboyant side. But they weren't Frank, who was all rugged good looks and a boyish face that was steadily maturing into fine chiseled features. Phil was sure by the time Frank hit thirties he would look like an American James Bond. But those were superficial things. He'd never cared if his past partners were divas or lumberjacks, it was what's on the inside that mattered to him. Phil put down his coffee mug and removed Frank's from his hands to set it on the bar.

"I don't really have a type, Frank." He pressed his palm over Frank's heart and could feel the rapid thudding underneath. "I look for what's in here." Phil looked into those chocolate brown eyes and drew closer. "And I know that what's in here is very, very good." Frank seemed to be lost in Phil's spell, his eyes lowering, watching Phil's lips as he spoke. Phil realized this and pulled back, smiling. "And if we're being completely honest, you need to know that I have been attracted to you for a long time too. I just happen to have the worst timing in the world."

"It looks like your luck is changing." Frank whispered.

"Shh…, don't jinx it." Phil pressed forward and Frank met him halfway. Frank hooked his fingers in the belt loops of Phil's borrowed jeans as the other wrapped his arms around Frank's shoulders. They kissed, slow and lazy. There was no need to rush, but to connect, because they could.

Frank barely registered the distant sound of keys jingling. But that could have been any of the residents walking through the corridor. Too late to react, his apartment door swung open and in walked Joe Hardy.

"Hey Frank! We decided to… Oh, holy shit!" Frank and Phil broke their kiss, lips swollen and red. They turned to see a dumbstruck Joe standing in the den with a very amused Vanessa behind him.

…..

"So… Phil huh?" Joe asked while he fiddled with the connection cables for one of Phil's computer components. Frank was using a screw driver to tighten the legs of Phil's desk. The man in question was down at street level with Chet, hauling up another box of his possessions from the back of Chet's pickup.

"What about it?" Frank didn't bother to look up from his task.

"Just seems like this is moving kinda fast. I mean, twenty-four hours ago he wasn't even your roommate, and by lunchtime today you're in a lip-lock." Frank put down the driver and stood up.

"Well let's see. I've known him since I was ten, we've studied together, played together, we know each other's most embarrassing childhood secrets. He knows my folks, I know his, hell, our folks know each other. I know his astrological sign, his birthday. He's helped us with various cases, even saved our asses a few times. So I guess you could say we've already got a jump on the "getting to know you" part." That was something else about Frank, he was not only fiercely loyal to his family and friends, he could be fiercely defensive of them too.

"Alright, Frank, don't get your nose out of joint." Joe sat down on the edge of Phil's (apparently now useless) mattress and looked at his brother. "I just don't want to see either of you get hurt, especially you. Not that you would intentionally hurt each other, but, you know, if things move too fast you could find yourselves in a place where neither of you are happy."

Frank deflated from his ire, and sat beside Joe.

"I know little brother. Look, we have talked some. It turns out there's been a mutual attraction going on, just a lack of communication. But I think, now that the ice has been broken, this could be a good thing." Joe gave Frank a lopsided smile.

"Just want you to be happy Frank."

"Thanks Joe."

"O.M.G! You two are worse than a Hallmark Channel movie." Vanessa quipped as she entered the room with an armful sport coats on their hangers.

"Well big brother, there's one upside to having Phil as your roommate, boyfriend, or whatever." Joe said as he stood up to help Vanessa hang the coats in the closet.

Frank rolled his eyes, "And what would that be?"

"Maybe he can show you what not to wear."

…..

Later that night Phil was attempting to flatten an empty pizza box with his foot so it would fit in the trash can. Frank and Vanessa were loading the dishwasher, Joe was finishing up the last slice of pizza, and Chet was telling the group about the woman he'd met the night before at Pasquale's.

Frank's cell phone rang and he answered it. The lively conversation in the kitchen continued, but Joe noticed Frank had gone silent, his face paling.

"Frank?" Joe half-whispered to get his brother's attention. Frank looked at him, a woeful expression on his face.

"Hang on Dad. Here, tell Joe." He passed the phone off and walked to the sofa, sitting with his head cradled in his hands. Phil abandoned the pizza box and came over to him.

"What's wrong?" He placed a gentle hand on Frank's knee. Frank raised his head, eyes rimmed red.

"It's Eric, he was found in an alley. He's dead."


	5. A Promise

Before you read, an Author's Note:

Please be advised, the beginning of the following chapter takes place in a morgue, this may be a trigger for some. Proceed with caution.

Chapter 5: A Promise

Dr. Martin Wheeler was the medical examiner on call at Bayport P.D.'s morgue. In nearly thirty years of performing autopsies he'd never seen a case like this. Dead men tell no tales. But the body before him on the slab was rewriting the book.

The Caucasian male looked to be in his early twenties to mid twenties. Overall, he appeared to be the picture of health, though he may have been anemic. Forensics had already taken the clothes to examine, but they were relatively clean, except for the grime from where the body had lain in the alley. No defensive wounds. No outward appearances of drug abuse. Hair, nails, all clean and well kept. What was most vexing was that two things weren't adding up. Going by the liver temperature, it was hard to determine exactly how long the victim had been deceased. The thermometer was reading one point sixty-six degrees Celsius, about the temperature of your average refrigerator. But the external tissue showed no signs of damage from that kind of exposure.

Under the UV light, no apparent evidence of sexual assault was to be found, save for a swath of an unknown fluid on the inner left thigh where it joined the hip. Ejaculatory fluid? Saliva? He reached for a cotton swab, dabbing the area and placing the tip in a tube to test later. Turning off the UV light he examined the area where the swath was more closely. The tissue looked slightly bruised, in an oval shape, almost like, a hickey? _Kinky bloke_, he thought to himself. He straightened up to retrieve his tray of utensils to begin the internal exam, but a knock on the metal door stopped him.

"Just a tic." The doctor reached for a sheet to drape over the body.

"Come in." he called.

Fenton, Frank and Joe Hardy entered the exam room.

"Fenton? I thought you had turned in for the evening."

"Frank was listed as the next of kin on the information we found in the victim's wallet. We need for him to make a positive I.D." Dr. Wheeler nodded.

"Are you ready lad?" he asked softly.

"Not really Dr. Wheeler, but he… he has no other family to identify him. He didn't have anyone." Frank replied shakily. He took a calming breath and then nodded. "Okay Doc."

The M.E. pulled the sheet down just past the body's shoulders. Frank gasped and started to tremble. This was not his first time in a morgue, he'd even witnessed a few autopsies. But this was the very first time he'd ever had to identify someone, someone he had cared for. Fenton wrapped a comforting arm around his son's shoulders.

"It's okay son, I've gotcha."

Frank looked down at the corpse. It was Eric alright. Frank caught Dr. Wheeler's eye and nodded in confirmation. Just as the M.E. was about to place the drape back over Eric's face, he stopped him.

"Um, Dad, Joe, Doc… Can I have a minute?"

"Sure son."

"Erm, well yes, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to take a break. Gentlemen, to the commissary?"

Joe touched Frank's arm as he started to leave, questioning him silently.

"I just want to say goodbye." Frank croaked.

Once he was alone, he pulled up a chair to the slab. Lightly he brushed the fringe from Eric's forehead.

"I'm so sorry Eric. I'm so sorry I couldn't make things work for us." He pulled the white sheet closer under Eric's chin, as if to keep him warm. So many words of regret and sorrow were bubbling up to the surface, but Frank couldn't manage to speak. All his life Eric had just wanted to love someone, and to be loved back. It wasn't asking too much, was it? He had asked so little of Frank when they were together. And the one thing he had wanted, for Frank to find some sort of vocation other than private investigations or any other high risk occupation, and Frank couldn't even do that. His throat was tight as he tried to choke back a sob. But the tears came anyway.

"I promise you this…" he finally managed, "I will find out what happened to you, and I will make them pay for this."

Frank thought he heard the hinge of the metal door creak, so he quickly wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve. When he turned around to face whoever had entered, he saw he was still alone.

"Hello?" Silence. Frank turned back to Eric, touching the sheet to pull it back over his head for the last time. He heard a metallic boom, like someone had bumped into one of the gurneys.

"Doc? Joe?" Frank stepped back from the examination slab to see if he could find whoever was bumping around. Before he could take another step he saw a test tube roll across the floor, stopping just in front of his shoe. As he stooped to pick it up, a blinding pain exploded in the side of his head just above his ear. He was vaguely aware of pitching forward, then the sensation of being hurled across the tiled floor to the other side of the room, colliding with the legs of a gurney so hard that it toppled over on top of him. And then it all went black.

…..

Frank turned over in bed, snuggling down into the pillow under his head. He inhaled. Something was tickling him just under his nose, so he turned his cheek into the pillow more. There, that was better. He was starting to become aware of how uncomfortable he was. When did his pillow start going flat? Frank raised his left hand to punch at the pillow. It felt funny, stiff. Had he slept on in wrong? Didn't feel numb, it ached. Frank's eyes slowly fluttered open. That was a mistake. Pain flared in the side of his head, he moaned and closed his eyes tightly.

"Frank?" a whisper.

"Hmm?"

"Frank?" Phil? That's right, Phil had moved in last night. Maybe he could ask him to bring an aspirin for his head.

"Can you get me somethin' for my head?" Frank mumbled.

"Sure." He listened out for the sounds of Phil's footsteps, but nothing happened. Instead he heard a beep, and then a nasally female voice that sounded like it was coming out of a drive- thru speaker.

"Can I help you?"

"Yes, Frank Hardy in room 415 just woke up. He said his head is hurting and needs something for pain. Could you also let the doctor know he's awake."

"Sure will. Someone will be up there in a few minutes."

"Frank honey, can you open your eyes for me?" Mom was here? Why had she come over?

"Hurts."

"Phil, would you mind turning out that light over there, and closing those blinds just a hair?"

"Sure thing Mrs. Hardy."

"_Laura_, please?" Laura Hardy said sweetly to Phil. She turned her attention back to Frank.

"Okay honey, we turned down the lights." This time when Frank opened his eyes it was a bit more bearable. He raised his left hand to his face, something was off, everything was blurry. Frank felt for what was tickling his nose and upper lip. Nasal cannula. He turned his hand over and found the cause of the stiffness, an I.V. line had been inserted there. Frank pulled his hand to and from his face, trying to focus.

"They took out your contacts in the E.R.," Phil explained. "I had no idea how long you'd had them in."

"Vanessa brought your glasses." Laura added. "Would you like them now?"

"Yeah, might help." She opened the leather case and handed Frank the rectangular, plastic frames.

"Thanks Mom, much better." Frank said as the world came back into focus. His head still throbbed and he ached all over. Where was that nurse? There was a light tap on the door, and Joe poked his head in.

"Breakfast anyone?" he whispered.

"Frank's awake."

"Oh." He stepped back and held the door open for Vanessa who held a cardboard tray with disposable cups of coffee. Joe followed with a paper bag from the nearby donut shop.

"Where's Dad?" Frank asked as Vanessa passed out the coffee to Laura and Phil.

"He left about thirty minutes ago to help Con Riley and Dr. Wheeler make heads or tails out of the morgue." Joe said. "Now that you're awake, do you feel up to shedding a little light on what happened?"

Frank sipped on the ice water his mother handed him while he collected his thoughts. He swallowed hard, and felt Phil squeeze his hand. "I heard something, sounded like the door opened…" He continued to relay what he remembered, at least up to the point where he'd felt his head explode. Joe scratched the back of his blonde head.

"Well from the shape the lab was in when we found you, it looked like someone got the drop on you, then decided to use you for bowling practice. You were underneath an overturned gurney clear on the other side of the room." Well that explained why he hurt all over.

"Last thing I remember I was still by the examination slab, how'd I wind up over there?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. But Frank, there's something else you need to know."

"What?"

"Eric's gone. We're assuming whoever attacked you made off with his body."

…..

Frank gingerly rubbed the goose egg of a lump over his left ear. In the span of forty eight hours he had gone from cloud nine to feeling like rubbish. That fact was not made any better by his doctor releasing him from the hospital, only to put him on strict bed rest for two days. Even then he wouldn't be cleared to go back to work until the next week. The doctor felt sure that there would be no ill effects from the moderate contusion, but only if he stayed off his feet. While the doctor was writing out a prescription for Frank's pain medication, Joe leaned forward.

"Can you prescribe one of those house-arrest anklets?"

Biff had a day off from his job as a trainer and instructor at the gym, and was currently playing "babysitter", at Laura and Fenton's request.

"Frank, in 2010, which country was the largest producer of sugar, U.S., Thailand, India or Brazil?"

"Uh, I dunno, U.S.?"

"U.S.! U.S.!" Biff hissed at the television. "Is that your final answer Frank?"

Frank slouched lower on the sofa, propping his feet on the coffee table.

"Sure, I guess." He shrugged.

"I'm sorry," the game show host informed the contestant, "the top producer of sugar in 2010 was Brazil."

"Nuts!" exclaimed Biff.

"No, sugar" Frank lazily answered back.

"No, Frank, I mean… Never mind. How hard did they say you hit your head?"

"Ha ha ha." Frank replied dryly.

His cell phone rang, so Biff went back to watching the game while Frank took the call. The caller I.D. read it was Phil's number.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself. You behaving?"

"_Ain't misbehavin'_..." Frank started to croon. He didn't want to make Biff feel self conscious, so he didn't finish the song, but Phil got the point.

"Well look, Joe wanted me to stop by the office on my way home from work. So I'll be a few minutes late."

"_Joe_?" That was different. Joe preferred field work to desk work any day of the week. Frank often wondered why their dad had bothered to get him a desk as little time as he spent behind it. Joe staying at the office after five o'clock – something was up.

"We'll explain when we get there, does Biff want to stay for dinner?" Frank lowered the phone.

"Biff, staying for dinner?"

"Montreal! It's Montreal dumbass!" Biff hollered at the T.V.

"Yeah, he'll stay."


	6. A Fly on the Wall

Chapter 6: A Fly on the Wall

Phil Cohen's computer desk was an impressive (scary) place. The average person's idea of a home computer includes a monitor, C.P.U., keyboard and mouse, or a laptop, or a tablet. Phil's consisted of three flat screen monitors, one traditional and one ergonomic keyboard, a central processing unit the size of a small suitcase, roller-ball mouse, and various peripherals strewn about here and there, and so on. Phil Cohen, software engineer by day, evil baby genius hacker by night.

After a dinner of cheese steak sandwiches, compliments of Tony Prito, the old gang had gathered in Phil's bedroom to see what Joe and Phil had in the works.

"I know Dad and the doctor don't want you back in the office until next week, but there have been a bunch of developments over the last few days I wanted to catch you up on." Joe explained, "That's why I asked Phil over to the office this evening, to help me hack a few things so we could go through it with you."

Phil was steadily tickety-tapping on the computer, with Frank and Joe on either side sitting in kitchen chairs. Biff and Chet were sitting on the edge of the (useless) bed, and Tony was reclined against the pillows, tie loosened. It felt like old times, the guys gathered around, eager to help the brothers with their latest mystery. The difference now being they were grown, had commitments to keep. But Frank appreciated their concern. They had liked Eric too, welcomed him with open arms when he and Frank started dating, and were just as eager as the Hardys to get to the bottom of this.

With a final tap Phil sat back in his desk chair. "Okay, here is the morgue's CCTV file from during the time you were attacked." He hit a button and the larger monitor in the middle of the desk came alive with a fly-on-the-wall view of the morgue. Frank could hear his own voice, albeit tinny, come over the speaker. He was a little embarrassed that the gang was witnessing a moment that had been so private and emotional. But he felt Phil's hand rest on his shoulder, and he covered it with his own.

He saw his black and white self stand up from the chair by the slab and kneel over to pick up the test tube. As if it just flashed into existence, and dark figure appeared by Frank and backhanded the side of his head. The figure popped out view, and another figure appeared just as suddenly and brushed Frank out of the way with the side of it's foot, as one would kick a piece of debris out of their path. As casual as the action appeared, it was apparently forceful enough to send Frank to the other side of the room, crashing into a gurney. That figure then appeared next to Eric's body, gathered him up in it's arms and _whish_, both were gone.

"Minchia!"* Tony spat, sitting upright and scooting to the edge of the bed between Chet and Biff.

"What the fuck was that?" Biff exclaimed.

"Is something wrong with the file?" suggested Chet.

"I don't think so," said Phil, "those cameras record digitally, it's more reliable than those older tapes so there are no blips, so to speak. It could have been corrupted in the download."

"Phil, do you think you can slow down the speed so we can get a better look at those figures?" Frank asked. Phil hit a few keys and the footage replayed slowly, yet the figures still seemed to flash in and out of view too quickly to tell when they had entered and exited the room, or from what direction. Not quite ready to give up, he entered a few more commands, freezing the scene at the point when the figure was by Eric. That was the one time when at least one of the figures was facing the CCTV camera. Zoom in, zoom in, re-digitize, enhance, finally the figure's features became more discernable.

"Frank!" Phil cried, "Oh that's, um, _whatshisname_?"

"Magnus… something." Frank wracked his brain.

"Magnus Haraldson." supplied Tony.

"Who's that?" asked Joe.

"Eric introduced us last weekend at Pasquale's." Frank leaned forward to get a better look at the image on the screen. "Eric referred to him and the lady with them as his friends."

"With friends like that…" Biff began.

"Just because he took Eric's body doesn't mean he was responsible for his death, does it?" Chet chipped in.

"But why would he, or whoever, attack Frank so callously? How did they cause so much damage with so little effort?" wondered Phil. He noticed Frank wasn't adding to the conversation. "What do you think?"

"You've both got a point, but I think we'll have more to work with once we find out a little bit more about this Magnus." He looked at Tony. "Is he a regular?"

"The first time he came in was about a month ago, he and that Johnson lady. He's come in a couple more times since then. He's a little on the spooky side, but hey, he's a big tipper." Anticipating Frank's next question he added, "Always pays cash."

"Well Frank, let me switch directions for a moment." Joe looked at Phil and nodded. Phil closed the CCTV window and opened some image files, "You remember the call Dad got last week about the murders in Whale Point and Bay Haven? Check out their coroner's reports and crime scene photos, and compare them to Eric's."

As Frank looked over the files, a pattern started to develop; the victims, two women and three men, were in their early twenties to early thirties. The ones in their early thirties appeared young for their age. They were all physically attractive, and all had been found in an alley or empty lot near a night club or lounge. There was no blood to be seen in the crime scene photos. In the pictures from the medical examiner, the bodies were intact with no obvious defensive wounds or signs sexual assault. Nearly all the details in the reports mirrored Eric's, down to the unusually cold post mortem temperature, the lack of cyanosis, as well as the presence of a protein based fluid and a pale, circular bruise on the side of the neck or the area of the groin.

"Where are the toxicology and pathology reports?" Frank asked his brother.

"Frank, those bodies were swiped before those tests could be performed too."

"Did those coroners film their exams?"

"Bay Haven didn't have a security camera in their lab, and Whale Point's tape was so fuzzy and jumpy you can't make out anything." Joe frowned.

"I bet their families are about to lose their minds wondering what happened to the remains of their loved ones." Chet mused, looking downcast. Joe sighed, remembering how hard it was when Chet's sister and his girlfriend, Iola, had been killed years before.

"Yeah, but the thing is for most them, there weren't any family members to contact."

"Like Eric." Frank whispered.

…..

About ten o'clock that Thursday night Phil came to bed, sliding in beside a sleeping Frank. As soon as he had settled in Phil felt the weight of Frank's arm drape across his waist. His hand found a patch of skin where the Phil's t-shirt wasn't covering his side, and began to draw delicate circles with his fingers.

"I thought you were asleep."

"Mmm, half in, half out." Frank moved closer, his breath began to tickle Phil's neck. His fingers dipped below the waistband of the dark haired boy's pajamas, and started running his hand up and down the fuzzy trail that ran from his navel to his cock.

"Someone's feeling frisky tonight. Are you sure you feel up to fooling around?"

"Do you wanna check for yourself?" Frank asked in a breathy voice. He shifted his hips and Phil could feel the brunette's erection brush against his thigh.

"Ah, I get frisky Frank tonight?" He turned over to face Frank, pressing their lips together. As the heat of the kiss built, Frank ran his hand under Phil's t-shirt, exploring the firm contours of his chest. Phil's hands were doing some exploring of their own, running up and down the length of Frank's back, occasionally dipping lower to knead the globes of his ass.

Frank broke away, but only to pepper a line of kisses along Phil's jaw.

"Phil?"

"Hmm?" Frank sat up in bed.

"Phil, I want… I want to try to do to you what you did to me Friday night."

"Oh? And what did I do to you?"

"Phil…"

"Uh oh, shy Frank's back." Phil tut-tutted. "I want to hear you say it." The moonlight was hitting the bed just right, and Phil could see a flush a color flood Frank's cheeks, ears and neck.

"I want, want to give you a blow job." he said quietly.

"What? I don't think I heard you?"

"Phil, I want…" a little louder.

"Yes Frank?"

"I want to suck your cock!"

"Well why didn't you say so?"

"Argh! Naked, now Cohen!" Frank laughed as he tugged on Phil's t-shirt. Both of them sat up, tearing off each other's night clothes. Phil lay back against the pillows, crooking his finger to beckon Frank to him. The brunette inched forward and stopped, drinking in the sight before him. The tan lines from summer had long faded, but the benefits of Phil's passion for swimming were still evident from the cut of the muscles along his chest, abdomen, down to sharp V of his hips.

"You're beautiful." Frank spoke softly. Now it was Phil's turn to blush. Frank leaned in and placed a kiss to Phil's lips, down to his breast bone. A pink tongue slipped out and teased a slick circle around his navel. Frank's fingertips traced the veins and contours of Phil's cock, the skin was so soft and warm. He brought his lips to the shaft, and starting at the base, ran the flat of his tongue up to the tip, where Phil was already starting to leak of pre-come.

"Fraaank…" Phil whined. He ran his fingers through the silky chestnut strands, bucking his hips instinctively. Encouraged, Frank took a deep breath and took the tip into his mouth, then pulling off with a lewd pop. He could hear his lover take in a sharp breath, so he took more of Phil into his mouth, clutching him with a firm but gentle grasp at the base. He found a rhythm, bob, suck, pull up, and twist. Bob, suck, pull up, twist. A mix of his spit and Phil's pre come began to run down between his fingers, helping him glide his hand up and down smoothly. Phil began to writhe under the older Hardy's ministrations, the hand he had tangled in Frank's hair his anchor to reality. For a beginner Frank was a quick study. Phil glanced down and caught Frank looking up at him with those big brown eyes. His lips were red, swollen and shining with the mixture of their fluids.

"Frank… Frank let (pant) me fuck (uh) your mouth." Frank hummed in affirmation, never breaking eye contact. Phil clutched Frank's head from either side and planted his feet firmly on the bed. Frank moved his hand to allow more freedom of movement for Phil, but continued to suck and massage with his tongue. Phil started to thrust his hips up, slow at first, he didn't want to choke Frank. Frank seemed to be tolerating it, so Phil picked up the pace until he was fucking into that hot, wet mouth in earnest. Phil's hips started to stutter, his rhythm broke as he bucked wildly, his balls drawing tight as molten heat pooled, expanded.

"Frank…I'm gonna come, ah! Uh! Gah!" His vision went white as in that last thrust he came, filling Frank's mouth. To Frank, the taste was foreign, salty, and a little started to drip out of the side of his mouth. But he swallowed, inhaled, and swallowed again.

When Phil finally stilled his hips, Frank sat back. If he thought Phil was a beautiful man before, he looked absolutely gorgeous now. The sheen of sweat covered his body, the flush of sex in his chest and neck. A ghost of a smile graced his lips and his thick black eyelashes were fanned out over his cheeks. Phil opened his eyes, and he smiled, reached out and grabbed Frank by the back of the neck. He ran his tongue over Frank's lips, catching that dribble of his own come, and kissed his lover deeply. As Frank sat back Phil saw that his cock was still heavy, full and leaking. If tonight was about Frank trying something new, Phil felt like pushing the envelope.

"Touch yourself Frank." Frank cocked an eyebrow at him.

"I want to watch you," He sat up a little, leaning on one elbow. Frank, like any other male his age, had plenty of experience getting off in private. But he wasn't sure if he could do it with someone watching. Phil must have been reading his mind, he bent his knee and propped his leg up. He casually ran his free hand down his own chest, tracing around his navel where Frank's tongue had traced earlier, and on down to his own cock. Though he was spent for now, he touched himself lightly, cupping his balls and massaging them.

Oh yes, this was something Frank could use for wank material. Frank held his hand up to his mouth, licking his palm before he reached for himself. He stroked, twisted, brushing his head with his thumb. He began to lose focus, so he closed his eyes as he got caught up in the sensation.

"Look at you, G-d, you are hot at fuck." Phil hissed. Frank whimpered, quickening his strokes.

"You like that Frank?" Phil crawled toward him on his hands and knees. "Do you like for me to talk dirty to you?"

"Mmm, mm hmm." Frank bit his bottom lip, he was getting light headed and wasn't going to last much longer. Suddenly he could feel warm, moist heat near his head.

"Open your eyes Frank." He did, and was shocked to see that Phil's face was hovering mere inches from this cock.

"Come for me." Frank hardly needed any urging. He came, hard, white ribbons lashing out over Phil's face and mouth, across his nose and cheeks. If Frank had it in him, he'd have come a second time just from the sight of it.

When he came down from his high he saw that Phil dabbing his face with one of their t-shirts.

"I'll go get you a wet rag." He offered, but Phil shook his head.

"I'm just going to jump back in the shower."

"Would you like some company?"

"I thought you'd never ask." He helped Frank steady himself as he got to his feet, then they headed to the bathroom for a quick shower. Or, at least until they ran out of hot water.

…..

He had seen it all. He had heard it all. And he had been a fool! Of course the love of his life had moved on. They had reached an impasse, and gone their separate ways. That didn't make it hurt any less.

He took a deep breath to calm his nerves, but it was useless. It only proved to heighten his awareness of his surroundings. The crisp night air, the smell of pigeon scat, and the rough texture of the early twentieth century brick beneath his fingers. Snow was on the way, he could smell that too.

His sorrow began to ebb, giving way to jealousy, then anger. Why was he so angry all the time? Even the smallest things seemed to be setting him off. His friends told him to it was best to forget, to move on, at least until he had better control over his emotions. Dark emotions like sorrow would lead to anger, anger to rage. Rage would fuel the hunger and make it harder to control.

He gasped as he was hit by a fresh pang of hunger. He glanced down at his watch, six hours till morning. If he didn't get distracted he could get a bite, and be home well before dawn. He took one last look at the window, down to the two lovers entangled in their sleep.

The sound of a melodic whistle made him snap his head around. They were ready, patiently waiting for him. He hopped down from his perch, taking off in a sprint. Best to get a move on, he had a ways to go before he turned in for the night. As he reached the next block, he recalled the first rule they had given him:

_Never feed where you play._

Author's Note:

*Minchia – Sicilian: Oh Shit!


	7. December

Chapter 7: December

_Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock!_

_Jingle bells ring and jingle bells swing…_

"If you do not shut that thing off I'm going to shove it up your…"

_Jingle bel, jingle bell, jingle bell…_

Frank reached over and smacked the "off" button on the little dancing Santa. A dancing Santa wearing a cowboy hat and boots, strumming a little plastic guitar.

"I thought the office could use a little Christmas cheer." Joe defended. "By the way, I picked up what you were asking me about. Don't ever say I never do anything nice for you." He handed his brother a small paper bag. Frank opened it and looked at the contents inside. He smiled and looked up at his younger brother.

"Thanks, I owe you one." He closed the bag and set it in his desk drawer.

"How are you coming with that?" Joe glanced at the file folder on Frank's desk.

"I've got a meeting at the courthouse tomorrow morning with the district attorney and the company's legal department to present them with the evidence. I think we've got enough on this embezzler for the judge to sign the arrest warrant." Frank noticed Joe looked unimpressed. Maybe unimpressed was too strong of a word. Bored? Yep. Investigating white-collar crime was not Joe's cup of tea. Frank wasn't too thrilled with it either, but it paid the bills.

"So has Biff called for an update today?" Joe asked as he took off his heavy winter coat. Frank rolled his eyes at the mention of their friend.

"No, when I talked to him yesterday he mentioned that he had some built up vacation time he need to take before the end of the year, you know, use it or lose it? So he went out to the country to visit his folks, spend some time with his granddad. Said he'd be back the day after Christmas."

"What's going on with him? Is old man Hooper sick or something?"

"He didn't say he was. But hey, the man's what, eighty-eight, eighty-nine years old? I remember when Mom realized Grandpa Lewis didn't have much longer she took us out there almost every weekend to visit."

Biff had been spending every other weekend at his grandfather's farm, for at least the last two months. It all started the weekend after he had been at Frank and Phil's apartment going over those hacked coroner files. Since then his friends began to see a more serious side of Biff. If he wasn't working at the gym, he was staying late to do extra workouts. He still joked around, but cussed less. Something else that seemed peculiar to Frank was that Biff had started to take more of an interest in their cases, especially of the body snatchings. He'd call the Hardys at least every other day, asking about any new developments. Alas, Frank had started to run out of things to tell him.

The deaths were officially under police investigation, however Fenton had been brought in to help create a possible profile of the killer. With Phil's help, Frank had managed to create a file of his own, to be as up to date - if more so, as the police. Two more bodies had been found and snatched, southwest of Bayport in Wayville, another northwest in Moravia. The victims shared the same profile as the previous, and all had similar coroner reports.

Frank plotted on a map the locations where the bodies had been found, and began to notice something. The killer appeared to be moving through cities along the interstate, directly southwest. But the sharp turn up to Moravia had Frank wondering. The next major town to the north was in a dry county, but Frank had a hunch that depending on where the killer struck next, they might have an idea of which direction he or she would head after that. The sad part was someone would have to die before they would be able to catch up in this game.

Though almost all the leads on the case seemed to be drying up, two things were constant: Magnus Haraldson and Amy Johnson. Frank visited the establishments where the last three bodies were found. He showed their staff the enhanced picture he had of Magnus, and several witness remembered seeing the victims with him and a woman fitting Amy's description.

Phil had spent hours tapping into various data bases for any information on the elusive twosome, but there were no records to be found. They were quite literally flying under the radar.

And that was all he had. Just sit and wait. Frank hated it.

…..

Frank came home early for a change, really early. He'd called it a day around two in the afternoon so he could come home and get ready for the evening. As he stepped in to his apartment, he took a moment to look around and take it in.

When it had been just him and Joe, they lived like a couple of frat boys, laundry here, a pizza box there. Okay, Joe lived like a frat boy and Frank passively let himself exist like that. While they were both in college it was study all day, work on cases at night. After graduation, it was work on cases all day, talk about work at night.

Now the atmosphere was different. He felt he could unwind, talk to Phil and just have him listen. Or listen to Phil talk about his day. He liked how Phil was adding his own touches to their living space. And between the two of them, their apartment in the converted industrial building was starting to feel like a home.

Behind the snark and sarcasm, there was a side to Phil few got to see. The black-haired young man was a big kid at heart. December was one of his favorite months, and it was clear as Frank glanced around. It had been Phil who had insisted they put up a Christmas tree, Frank and Joe had never bothered since they usually went to their parents' home for most of the holiday. This surprised Frank, given their religious differences.

"Don't be such a Scrooge!" Phil had teased when Frank tried to talk him out of it, "If you don't put one up, how will Santa Claus know to stop here?" The brunette gave him a quizzical look.

"I will not burst into flames if we put up a Christmas tree! C'mon Frank, get into the magic of the season."

But Phil had his own religion represented as well, a beautiful brass and silver olive branch menorah graced the windows across the room. It had been a housewarming gift from Phil's grandmother when he moved into his first apartment. There were other decorative touches here and there, Phil had a knack for these things.

The spray of the shower suddenly came on, Frank could hear it when he walked into the kitchen. Good, he thought, he still a little time. He opened his messenger bag and pulled out the paper bag Joe had delivered earlier. He looked around, nodded to himself, and set to work.

…..

"Hurry up slow poke, we need to get there before sundown!" Phil called out to the bedroom as he put the gifts for his niece and nephew and a few other things on the table by the door. The words had no sooner left his mouth as his boyfriend (wow, that word had a nice ring to it) walked into the kitchen trying to button his right cuff with his left hand. Frank's hair was still damp, his fringe sweeping over his brow in an adorable way.

"C'mere, I've got something for you." Still fiddling with his wrist, Frank walked over to Phil. When he looked up, Phil was holding some hair clips and a black kippah.

"I didn't think I was supposed to wear anything? I Googled it." Phil couldn't help but smirk at Frank, always the boy scout, research and be prepared.

"Yeah, well I'm not supposed to eat cheeseburgers or pepperoni pizza either, but I do." He shrugged. "My family's pretty lenient. Besides, I didn't want you to feel left out." Phil stepped behind Frank to fasten the kippah.

"How do I look?" Frank asked, holding out his arms.

"Good enough to eat." Phil winked. Frank smiled and then glanced up above Phil's head.

"Ahem…"

"What, am I forgetting anything? I've got the gifts, the wine…" Phil felt around his pockets, but his cell phone, wallet, and keys were all accounted for. Frank shook his head.

"Look up." Above him, tethered to one of the rafters with twine was a cluster of mistletoe.

"How'd you…" But his question was cut off by a kiss. Frank wrapped his arms around Phil's waist, pulling him closer. Suddenly Phil started to giggle, and Frank broke away.

"Now what's so funny?"

"I'm a Jew standing under mistletoe, kissing a goy* who's wearing a kippah."

"Happy Hanukkah, Phil."

….

"I don't need anything for Christmas, Frank." Phil answered as he crawled in bed later that night. They were stuffed, miserably so. Phil's bubbe, Ruth, and mother, Pearl, were outstanding cooks, and they'd had a wonderful time with Phil's family. They were so warm, friendly, and accepting, save for his elter zaide*. The man was in his nineties, hard of hearing, opinionated and sarcastic. He clearly loved Phil very much, but was in a state of denial over his great-grandson's sexual orientation.

When Frank was introduced as Phil's boyfriend, the man harumphed, then turned to Phil.

"Well, at least you've got yourself a live-in Shabbos goy*."

"Zaide!" Pearl hissed in admonishment. Well, now Frank knew where Phil got his snarkiness from. Other than that awkward moment, the rest of the evening was full of prayer, songs, laughter and food. Lots of delectable, fried food.

Phil had given his older brother's children gifts, and even though they were adults, Ruth gave Frank and Phil each a nice, expensive, silk tie.

"Thank you, Mrs. Cohen, but this is too much." Frank said shyly.

"Not a word Frankie. You make our little Phil so happy, all he can talk about lately is "Frank this" and "Frank that". You should see the way his face lights up when he mentions your name."

Phil groaned, turning beet-red all the way up to his ears.

"_Aww, Bubbeeee…_"

"Do you think I should reciprocate, since there are seven more nights? I still haven't finished shopping for Christmas, and I could pick something out while I'm at it." Frank mentioned after he brushed his teeth.

"I wouldn't worry about it Frank. In our family we usually give stuff to the kids, besides, you saw how many tchotchkes* she had around the house. What do you give the person who already has everything?" Then he amended, "We do spoil her on her birthday and Mother's Day."

Frank got in bed, slipped on his glasses and picked up his electronic tablet.

"Wait a minute, you're not done shopping?" Phil asked in genuine surprise. "Since when do you leave things to the last minute?"

"I'm nearly there. I've done most of it online. I'm just having trouble picking out one last thing."

"Well, who is it? Maybe I can give you a suggestion." Frank hesitated, unconsciously tapping on the side of his tablet.

"You." He said quietly. But Phil declined.

"Why not? I know you got something for me, I saw the box under the tree." Frank protested. Phil shook his head.

"You can't put what I want in a box." Phil replied as he pulled the covers over himself. He scooted closer and rested his chin on Frank's shoulder. "Besides, I've already got what I want."

"And what's that?"

"You." He placed a quick kiss on the brunette's lips, then hunkered down into the covers. Frank sat there quietly for a moment, a small smile on his lips. He turned off his tablet and set it and his glasses on the bedside table, then turned out the light. As he lay there in bed, Frank decided he knew exactly what Phil's gift would be.

Author's note:

*goy/ Shabbos goy – Jewish term for Gentiles, or non-Jews as a collective. Shabbos goy is one who would perform tasks that observant Jews are not able to perform themselves during the sabbath, but only under certain provisions. Please refer to your favorite search engine for a more elaborate explanation.

*elter zaide – Yiddish: great-grandfather.

*tchotchkes – small things, baubles, decorative figurines.


	8. The Gift

Before you read: Be advised that the follow chapter contains sexual content, enacted in manner that would be considered irresponsible. Please proceed with caution.

Chapter 8: The Gift

"Season one and two of Duck Dynasty on blue ray! Oh Joe, thank you!" Gushed Aunt Gertrude.

"You're welcome Aunt Gertie. Mom said you really enjoyed the show."

"Are you kidding? She can be watching that show in her room and we'll hear her cackle all the way in here." said Fenton.

"I don't cackle Fenton, that's not lady-like." sniffed Aunt Gertrude. She turned the cases over.

"Oooo! It has two hours of out-takes and deleted scenes."

Vanessa had given Joe a hard time for picking out such a gift for his aunt. Joe turned smugly to his fiancée.

"Told you." he whispered.

Christmas day had arrived and the Hardy clan had descended upon Laura and Fenton's home to exchange gifts celebrate and eat. This meant more festive, stick-to-your-ribs food. Frank was starting to consider calling Biff after New Years to see if he would cut him a deal on gym membership. But moving up a notch on his belt was worth it for the way he felt right now. Frank had a major case of the warm and fuzzies, surrounded by his family and cuddled on the couch with his boyfriend.

The family room of his parents' house looked as if Martha Stewart herself had come down to Bayport to help his mother decorate. No room in the house went untouched, down to the Santa Claus toilet lid. However, old Martha would have passed out if she saw the shape the family room was in now. Gift wrap paper, bows and ribbons were strewn over the floor, boxes in untidy stacks, and Douglas fir needles scattered here and there. It was great.

"So Phil, what did Frank give you?" Vanessa asked from her perch on the ottoman.

"We haven't exchanged yet, we'll do that later tonight." Phil answered. Frank squeezed his hand and smiled.

"Oh, that's so sweet. Fenton and I used to do that after you boys had gone to bed on Christmas night. Just a little "us" time." Laura said.

…..

"Us" time for Frank and Phil finally arrived later that night back in their apartment. The last of the menorah candles had burnt out, wisps of smoke rising and dissipating. The Christmas tree lights were still burning, but other than that the den was dark. Phil sat back in an armchair with his feet propped on the coffee table, sipping a beer in quiet reflection. Frank had excused himself to the bathroom, but had closed the bedroom door behind him.

When Frank returned to the den Phil looked up to see he had changed into a soft, v-neck t-shirt and a pair of silky pajama bottoms.

"Are you feeling okay, thought you were going to take up residence in there?" Phil asked as Frank sank down onto the sofa.

"No, never better." Frank answered, though his voice was a little shaky.

Phil wasn't quite convinced, but he picked up the small rectangular box he had retrieved from under the tree.

"Well here, Merry Christmas, Frank." Frank took the box from his boyfriend, tugging on the ribbon and carefully tearing off the paper. Inside was a men's silver I.D. bracelet, but instead of his initials or name being engraved on the center link, there was an intricate scrolling pattern with an emerald baguette in the center.

"Phil, it's beautiful. Thank you."

"Look at the inscription." Frank turned over the center link, in scripted letters were the words: _I won't lose you_.

For a moment, Frank's mind flashed back to the heart wrenching conversation he'd had with Eric so long ago: "_I can't lose you Frank! I can't! What if you were kidnapped killed_..."

As his and Phil's relationship had developed, and they had discussed their past loves, he recalled telling Phil the details of his break up with Eric. What was Phil trying to say now?

"Phil? What… You know that I…" Phil moved to sit beside Frank on the couch.

"Really read what it says, silly. "I won't lose you". And I won't." He picked up the bracelet and fixed it to Frank's left wrist, then he placed that hand over his own heart. Frank could feel the steady thump of Phil's heart in his chest.

"Frank, you ask for nothing. You give more than you take. You put your life on the line for others, because it's the right thing to do. You touch so many lives without realizing it. And you have touched my life, and my heart.

No one knows what's out there, what will happen tomorrow, to me, to you. But I do know this, I love you Frank Hardy, and I won't lose you. Because you've planted a part of yourself right here." Phil pressed Frank's hand more firmly to emphasize the last point. Phil's eyes had started to sting, never in his life had he bared his soul in such a way to anyone.

Frank's throat started to constrict, words would not come. Phil Cohen had just said he loved him. If he could, he would have run to the rooftop and shouted it out to the city. Instead he was rooted to the spot, tears trickling down his cheeks.

"Oh Frank, I didn't mean to make you cry…" Phil let go of Frank's hand to wipe away a tear, but Frank lunged forward, wrapping his arms around Phil's neck. He mashed his lips against Phil's, opening his mouth licking against those soft, full lips. Phil took the hint and let that tongue glide in, sweep around, dance with his. A few times their teeth clacked against each other, their noses bumped, Phil started to get dizzy, lost in the passion of the kiss.

Frank let go, gasping.

"You're wrong Phil." He cupped Phil's cheek in his hand, "It's you who has been so giving. You've always been there for me, always been my rock to lean on when I couldn't figure out who or what I was. You gave me acceptance when I felt like all my friends were going to turn their backs on me. In just a few months you've made me the happiest that I've ever been. Phil, with you, I feel like I belong. That I've finally come home." Both of them were crying now. Frank leaned in, placing gentle kisses across Phil's cheeks, his eye lids, using his thumbs to wipe away the tears.

"I love you." He whispered in Phil's ear. He sat back and cleared his throat in an effort to regain his composure. "I haven't given you your present yet."

"Frank, I told you…"

"It's in the bedroom, c'mon." Frank stood, tugging Phil's hand as he rose. Phil sighed and allowed himself to be led.

When Frank opened the bedroom door Phil was surprised to see what his boyfriend had waiting for him. The bed was turned down, and the pillows were fluffed and propped up. Votive candles were lit and placed on the bedside tables, along the window sills and on the dresser. Soft music was coming from the stereo. Frank stood in front of Phil.

"What's this all about?"

"This is my gift to you. You said that what you wanted couldn't be put in a box, that I was all you wanted. But there's a part of me that you don't have." Phil raised an eyebrow but kept listening. "I never been this intimate with anyone Phil, and I now know why. It never felt right, and it never felt like this." Frank took both of Phil's hands in his, lifting them and brushing his lips against Phil's knuckles.

Phil felt like his knees were going to give out. Surely Frank's not… Oh dear G-d in Heaven is he…

"Phil, my gift to you is me. All of me, I want to make love with you."

"You're giving me your virginity, for Christmas?" Phil asked slowly, enunciating each word to make sure even he understood what was going on here.

"Christmas, Fourth of July, second Tuesday in June. My point is I'm ready. I've never felt so sure of something like this in my life. If you're not ready, I understand. I'll wait until then. But I'm yours." Phil's mouth had gone completely dry by the time Frank was done. He was stunned, elated, overwhelmed…

"Okay," he started, "How… what would you like to do?" This was definitely not Phil's first time being on the giving or receiving end of sex, he liked both ways. But if this was going to be Frank's first, Phil was more than willing to be on the bottom if it would make it more comfortable for him.

"Take me, Phillip." Frank eyelids lowered in a sultry way. "Make love to me."

"Are you sure you want it that way? It, eh, it can be pretty uncomfortable the first time. You'll be sore tomorrow for sure."

"I know, I know." Frank blushed, "I did some reading online, watched a few videos…"

Phil's cock twitched strongly. The thought of shy, innocent Frank watching gay porn and taking notes made Phil want to throw him down on the bed and ravish him without prelude. He swallowed thickly, trying to restrain himself.

"You didn't happen to buy any, um, supplies when you were planning all this?" Phil waved his hand toward the room. Frank nodded.

"Are you saying you'll accept your gift?" Frank cocked his head to the side, a coy smile playing at his lips. Frank had released Phil's hands and was beginning to toy with the top button on his boyfriend's shirt.

"Yes." Phil cradled Frank's head in his hands, planting a kiss on his lips. "Yes (kiss), yes (kiss)."

Frank's fingers were working their way down Phil's shirt, popping buttons until he reached his waist. He unbuckled the belt at Phil's waist and lowered his zipper, reached in and ran his hand along the bulge waiting there. Phil drew in a steadying breath.

"Frank, baby if you keep that up we're not going to get anywhere." He gently pushed Frank down onto the bed. Frank removed his t-shirt, and watched as Phil finished getting undressed. He arched his back and lifted his hips when his boyfriend leaned over to divest him of his pajama bottoms. Soon they were both lying on the bed, facing each other. Phil kissed the tender skin of Frank's neck, lathing his tongue along the tendon, nipping on the skin at the junction of his collar bone. Here he indulged in sucking on the flesh there, gently biting down. A small cry escaped Frank's lips as a foreign ripple of pleasure coursed through him. His fingers dug into Phil's shoulders, sure to leave a bruise.

"Does that feel good?"

"Yesss…" Frank hissed. He threw a leg over Phil's hip to draw him closer, their cocks slotting together. Phil returned to that spot, soothing it and nipping again. While he was distracting Frank with his mouth, the hand that he had been running up and down the brunette's side slid down to his hip, then his thigh. He hooked his hand under Frank's knee, hiking it up slightly higher. Phil's hand slowly traveled back up, caressing the skin along the way. He ran his fingers over the roundness of Frank's bottom, then began to grip and knead, working his way closer to his center. Experimentally, his fingertips grazed the puckered skin there.

"Ahh…" Frank gasped. Phil stroked again, teasing lightly and was rewarded with a mewling sound this time.

"Where's the lube and stuff?"

"Drawer." Phil turned over to Frank's bedside table and blindly felt around for the bottle of lube. His fingers ran over what felt like a cardboard box, he grabbed that too and set it on the table top. Phil turned back over to Frank and flipped the bottle open with a soft click and coated his fingers. He returned to where he'd left, stroking a slick finger around the outside, teasing the middle.

Frank shivered at the cold touch, but the liquid soon warmed. Phil began to gently nudge his center, not enough to breach yet, but was applying more pressure with each pass. So this is how it begins, thought Frank. He was nervous, but he trusted Phil, with his heart, with his life. He buried his face in the crook of Phil's shoulder and neck.

"Feel good so far?" Yes, everything felt good so far. It was as if Frank's skin had come alive, and every touch made it sing. Frank nodded into Phil's shoulder.

"Take a breath." Phil instructed, and Frank did. "Now breathe out." As Frank let it out he felt the first intrusion into his being. Just the tip of a finger, it was a strange feeling, no denying that, but it didn't hurt. Phil withdrew it and pushed in again, and again. Just when Frank was used to the sensation, Phil upped the ante, pushing all the way in. Frank's breath hitched at the sting of the stretch.

"Breathe baby." Phil continued to pump his finger in and out. "I won't lie, it's gonna get worse before it gets better. But it will get better, I promise." He pressed a kiss to Frank's temple. As Frank's breathing evened out Phil could feel him relax around his finger, after a few more goes he covered Frank's mouth in a hard, deep kiss. That was when he added the second.

"Ngh! Gaah! Fuck!" Frank cried as tears began to collect out of the corners of his eyes.

"Want me to stop?"

"No… keep going." He choked.

Phil sat up, urging Frank onto his back and spreading his legs. Frank had gone soft from the pain, so Phil bent down, teasing him with kitten licks. Frank began to harden, and whimper, his senses a confusion of pleasure and pain. Gradually the fullness started to feel… good. He relaxed, his hips pushing back in tandem with Phil's efforts. Phil then changed the angle of his hand, crooking his fingers and pressing against the fleshy nub he knew would be there. Frank yelped, his hands clutched the sheets and he legs spread out further.

"Wha… wha was that…?" Frank looked down at Phil with unfocused eyes.

"Your prostate." He went back down on Frank, lazily sucking.

"Damn, that feels so goo… Ah! " His words were cut off by the addition of the third finger.

Frank's thighs started to quiver from the strain. Phil took one of Frank's hands with his free one, and the returning grasp was sure to make his fingers go numb. The fingers that were stretching Frank's entrance then began to separate and scissor, working against the instinctive pressure against them.  
"Hurts…" Frank forced out through his clenched teeth. Phil glanced up to see moisture glistening on his boyfriend's cheeks.

"We can st…"

"No!"

"Then you need to relax. Please, baby. Like I told you, take a breath in, let it out really slow through you mouth." Phil felt like a bastard for hurting him. He also felt like a bastard for letting the way Frank's head was thrown back, the way his body squirmed, and the sight of Frank's most intimate parts do such naughty things to him. He had to remind himself to regulate his own breathing, it was still going to be a while before they reached their goal, and he just had to make it until then.

When he noticed there was less resistance against his fingers, and that Frank was relaxing again, he curled his fingers to tease that prostate. The yelps and sharp moans were a welcome change from the painful hissing and grunting. They picked back up their dance from before, the synchronized push and pull of hands and hips.

"You're so tight Frank, you're gonna feel so damn good when I get inside you." Phil encouraged. Frank's tension-blotched face darkened even more at those words.

"I think…I'm ready." Frank panted. Phil removed his fingers, and the brunette moaned at the loss of the fullness he'd just come accustomed to. The raven haired boy sought out the lube and box of condoms, but Frank touched his wrist.

"No, I want to feel everything, and you should as well."

"Frank…" Phil warned.

"I know you're clean, we both have been tested. Please." Phil turned his head from Frank's pleading eyes. Damn puppy eyes.

Phil grabbed a pillow, nudging it under Frank's hips and backside. Oh, the glorious view of Frank on display, just for him. His hole was stretched and slicked with lube, cock straining and red, his well-toned chest was rising and falling sharply. Phil drank in the sight as he lubed his long-neglected cock, leisurely stroking, burning this moment in his brain for future reference, for forever.

"Alright Frank, remember to…"

"Breathe." The brunette supplied. Phil wrapped one of Frank's legs around his waist, then hooked the other over his shoulder. He lined his head up with Frank's entrance, and began pressing in the tip. Frank winced, blowing out a long breath. Phil continued to nudge until the head was swallowed up by the ring of muscle. Phil quickly lowered himself, supporting his upper body weight with arms on either side of Frank's head, and swallowed the cry that he had elicited from his lover.

Phil felt like his body was on fire. The tight, hot pressure was almost painful to resist, it would feel so, so good to go on and thrust all the way in. The room's atmosphere seemed humid as he and Frank were drenched in sweat. Frank had started running his hands over Phil's damp chest, along his shoulders again, caressing the crescent shaped bruises he knew to be there from earlier.

The darker haired boy soldiered on slowly, excruciatingly slow. Frank thought he was being split into. He gritted his teeth and locked his jaw, wrapped his arms around his boyfriend's chest and held on for dear life.

Phil was finally embedded to the hilt. He stilled, waiting for any sign from Frank.

"How're you doin'?" he asked. He swept Frank's sweat-soaked fringe from his forehead, pressing light kisses to the damp skin there, on to his cheek, lips, and chin.

"I'm, eh…" Frank swallowed. "Getting, used to it, I guess." He blew out another calming breath and nodded. "Move."

His lover reached down and grabbed his cock, a mixture of sweat and lube slicking his movements. While Phil tried to concentrate on that task, he pulled out and thrust forward.

"Ooff! Ah!" Phil wasn't sure if that was him or Frank, or both. But it didn't sound like a bad thing, so he moved again, and again, hips pumping in time with his strokes. His anticipation and arousal had been going on for so long at this point, his conclusion began rush forward. Phil shifted his hips quickly, changing his angle so he could hit that bundle of nerves inside Frank.

"Shittttt! Phil! Oh my G-d! Oh G-d! Yes, damn it!" Frank cried. He hurt, hurt so bad, but that place felt so good. His world was a blur of tears. But he'd never felt so full, so satisfied. Electricity was zinging through every nerve at every touch.

"Uf! Frank…you feel so good. I told you… so fucking hot. Just… c'mon babe. Whenever you want…s'okay."

Moments later Frank arched his back, his head rocking back in the pillow as he screamed, loud and high. Fingernails nearly breaking the skin on Phil's back. He came hard, white ropes painting his abdomen and Phil's chest. That's when Phil broke, his steady rhythm stuttering as he fucked wildly, until finally a white-hot explosion, and filled Frank's hole until it cum started to drip out and trickle down his own balls. His vision went white as he pressed his forehead to Frank's chest, and closed his eyes.

…..

Frank must have passed out momentarily. He'd read that could happen, not too unusual with really strong orgasms. He became aware of being touched, by something wet, warm and soft. Frank's vision cleared enough to see Phil over him, running a washcloth over his body.

"Look who's awake." Phil smiled.

"How long was I out?" Frank was starting to feel embarrassed. Oh please, don't let this become a _thing_. Bad enough he couldn't hold his liquor, even worse if he's going to pass out every time he has sex.

"About fifteen minutes." Frank began to groan, but Phil interjected. "I feel asleep afterward too, woke up about five minutes ago. Didn't have the heart to wake you, you looked so peaceful."

"So how are you?" Phil asked, a pained and concerned look crossing his face.

The million dollar question. Frank tried to take a quick inventory. He felt incredibly relaxed, his limbs heavy yet pliant.

"So far, so good." He answered.

"No regrets?"

"Just love." Phil scoffed at Frank's idea of humor and slapped his thigh with the wet rag. Then he looked down at his handiwork, "Well, glad you're awake now, you want me to…" Phil shook the cloth and glanced further down Frank's body.

"Thanks, but I think I'll go… Owww." Frank sat up and winced.

"Told you so." Phil scooted closer. "I know it's late, but how would you like for me to draw you a warm bath? It'll help with the soreness."

"Only if you join me." Frank answered cheekily.

"You think we'll both fit?"

"I'll make room." Frank held a hand out in a silent request for assistance. Phil stood on his own wobbly legs and gingerly helped Frank stand.

…..

When they were cleaned and settled for the night, Phil turned to his side and pulled Frank to him, tucking the brunette's head under his chin.

"Ani ohev otcha*"

"English, please."

"I love you."

"I love you too, Phil."

Soon both lovers were drifting into a deep, dreamless sleep.

…..

Outside, another three inches of snow blanketed the ground, covering cars and post boxes. Christmas lights began to blink out as families finally turned in for the evening. The wind picked up, arctic cold coming off the distant ocean.

Carl Newby rubbed is hands together, gathered with a few of his "neighbors" around a fire someone started in a rusted out oil drum. They huddled in the alley, out of the fierce wind. Though his neighbors were all well fed from the Christmas dinner provided at the local mission, he sadly knew that come tomorrow the need for a warm, filling meal would come again. Hunger knows no season.

Tomorrow he'd be home in bed, well, after he checked in with his sergeant and wrote up his report at the station. Then sleep in all day, wake up around four and finally have Christmas with his wife and kids. Undercover work was a bitch, but the drug traffickers he was trying to get information on needed to go down. And even if it meant freezing his ass off on Christmas night, he was determined to do his part to keep his community, even his family, safe.

The wind was howling now, high pitched.

"Sounds like someone's lost out there." muttered one of the alley's residents.

"That's the wind, ain't it?" asked Carl.

"That ain't no wind," a well weathered older woman answered. She held her fingers up to her chapped lips. "Listen."

Carl closed his eyes, trying to block out everything else. That's when he finally heard it, a wail, mournful and long.

"I'm gonna check it out." Carl said as he turned from the fire.

"Ay, have you lost your mind?" called another. But Carl was already out on the sidewalk, and started trudging west, to the sound of the cry. He walked another block until the wailing stopped. Out of the corner of his eye Carl thought he saw movement in the next alley.

"Hello?" he called out. No answer, but he did see something move again. He reached under the dirty coat he was wearing and retrieved his service pistol. Carefully he walked down the brick expanse, the light over a service entrance his only illumination. A figure stepped out from the shadows. Carl straightened, lowering his weapon a bit.

"You okay buddy?" he asked as the figure stepped under the light. It was a man, very tall, with well styled, reddish hair. Despite the several inches of snow, the man walked gracefully. He was dressed like he should have been at a party, not wandering around in a snow-drifted alley, in the middle of the night, in below freezing weather. He looked like he'd been crying.

"Do… do you know what time it is?" the tall man asked.

"Well, yeah, it's about twenty minutes after…" In the split second it took Carl to look down at his watch, he was hoisted up in the air by his jacket collar, feet dangling. Carl struggled as he was pushed up against the brick wall, his gun dropped in his shock and surprise. The tall man grasped his left arm, removed Carl's fingerless gloves and pushed up his sleeve.

"What… what the hell are you…?" The undercover cop asked, he was trying to remember his training, but training never covered this. The tall man faced him, his eyes darkening from a friendly green to a dark blood red, narrowing. His expression changed instantly from sorrow to outright rage. Tall man opened his mouth in a sneer, revealing a row of straight, pearly white teeth. Except for his upper canines, which Carl hadn't really noticed the first time, probably because before they hadn't been slowly growing.

…..

Back in the other alley, the small group of homeless people huddled around the fire.

"Wonder if that young feller found what he was looking for?"

Author's Note:

*ani ohev otcha – Hebrew: I love you (conjugated for one male speaking to another male)


	9. What a Way to Go

Before you read: Be advised, mentions of suicide in the beginning of this chapter. This may be an emotional trigger for some. In addition, there is more m/m sexual content (it gets kinky folks). Please proceed with caution.

Chapter 9: What a Way to Go

Frank was reclined in the steaming tub, a cup of coffee in hand. He was lost in thought, staring up at the horizontal window above the shower head. Even though the window had a light acid etching for privacy, Frank could still make out that snowflakes were hitting and sticking. He slipped down a little further into the water and set his mug on the edge of the tub. Phil hadn't been kidding. Frank was more sore this morning than he had been last night.

At Phil's insistence he was now soaking in a bath of Epsom salt. His boyfriend tapped on the bathroom door and peeked inside.

"You've just got a few more minutes, then it's back to bed."

"I'm not sick."

"Yeah, but unless you still want to be walking funny tomorrow when you go back to work, I suggest you rest." Phil advised as he stepped out of the bathroom.

"I'm not a baby." Frank muttered to himself.

"I heard that!" Phil called from the bedroom. Ah, the famous Hardy stubbornness.

A rapid knock on the apartment door drew Phil into the den. When he looked through the peep hole he saw it was Joe. Well, look who finally learned to knock instead of barging in, Phil thought. It only took Joe walking in on an impromptu after work blow-job, with Frank kneeling in front of Phil on the den sofa, to remedy that issue.

"Morning Joe, what's up?" Phil greeted as he let the blonde boy in.

"Is Frank up yet?" Joe looked shaken.

"He's still in the tub." Joe headed in the direction of the bathroom.

"Joe, c'mon! He'll be out in minute." Phil handed him a steaming mug. "Just sit down and I'll let him know you're here." Phil returned the bathroom.

"Joe's here, he looks upset." He informed Frank. Frank eased out of the tub, dried off and dressed quickly.

As he limped into the kitchen Joe stared at his brother.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing, I'm fine. What's going on?"

"Phil, why is Mr. I'm Fine limping?" The boyfriends began to blush as Joe's agitation and concern grew.

"Joe, I think this is something your brother…"

"What? What happened?" Joe turned on Phil. Ah, the famous Hardy sibling over-protectiveness.

"Joseph! Calm your tail down!" Frank blurted. "Look, I don't think you need all the details, but let's just say, this; I don't ask you all the details of your and Vanessa's love life, there are some things you don't need to know about ours!" Well that shut Joe up. He paled, then blushed furiously.

"Oh. _Oh_! Oh G-d." He looked between the two of them. "You mean, you two…" Frank was pinching the bridge of his nose, trying not to make eye contact with his brother. Phil had turned around to the coffee maker, adding more sugar to his mug than necessary.

After plying Joe with a cup of coffee they managed to get him around to the point of why he was there.

"Con Riley called this morning. Do you remember Carl Newby? Graduated a year or so before you and Phil, joined the police force right out of academy?" Frank and Phil nodded, they remembered Carl well. He was a great football player, Biff had looked up to him, trained under him. He had even encouraged Chet to join the team as an offensive lineman. Then after two years of community college he'd gone on to the police academy, married, and had two small children. Frank and Joe had worked with Carl on a professional level since, him being the arresting officer in a number of their cases. But they had lost touch when he transferred into the undercover division.

"He was found dead this morning, apparent suicide." Frank set his coffee mug on the table a little harder than he had intended, a little coffee lapping out onto the table.

"What? That, no Joe…" Carl? Suicide?

"He was found in an alley, not far from where he'd been assigned to do some undercover work. From what Con was able to tell me, it looked like he used a rusty nail to slit his wrist, bled to death." Joe rubbed his forehead. "They didn't see any signs of struggle, but then with the snow, a lot was covered up. CSI is still out there."

The three young men sat there in stunned silence.

"Did they find his sidearm on him?" Frank asked. Joe shrugged.

"Con didn't say, he was rather upset himself. He thought of Carl like a little brother. Why?"

"Well, if he would contemplate suicide, why would he do something so painful and slow, like using a rusty nail to cut himself, when he had access to a pistol?" Frank mused. Frank wouldn't pretend to know the psychological processes of the suicidal mind. But his own rational brain was screaming that this wasn't making sense.

…..

"Sloppy, childish fool!" screeched the pale man as the blow came hard across the tall man's face. The strike echoed through the room, but the tall man just stood there, he knew he'd been in the wrong.

"I warned you about going back to Bayport so soon! I told you to wait. What if someone saw you?" The pale man seethed as he paced the room. When the tall man remained quiet, he got right into his face.

"We took you in. You said you wanted the life we could give you. That you had no ties to bind you!"

"I'm sorry, Father. I… just had to see him." explained the tall man.

"You mean you had to go watch him roll in the hay with his new boyfriend!" piped up one of his little "sisters".

"Wanky…" teased another, tossing her long hair over her shoulder. Their brothers who were sitting around the elegantly appointed sitting room began to chuckle good naturedly. The pale man shot them all a look and the women silenced their jibes.

The pale man turned around to the dark woman who was quietly sitting on the tufted chaise lounge.

"_You_ talked me into letting him in, you can _baby sit_ him while I take the children south to visit family."

"Are you taking Ezekiel?" She asked flatly.

"He stays here, too. He has work to do." The pale man ordered. He turned to leave the room, but walked back up to the tall man, his face softening as he approached. He held his arms out to the tall man, and he enveloped him in a fatherly embrace.

"My son, I make a deal with you. Either you decide to walk away and be done with him, or you convince him to join us. I can send you two away, together. California? Hawaii? Have a little honeymoon, yes? You can be happy at last. But I want this resolved by the time I get back." He leaned back and held the tall man's face in his hands, looking him in the eyes. "Or I will kill him myself." The look on the pale man's face was one of a parent talking to a small child. He patted the tall man's cheeks and left the room.

The others followed him, all but the dark woman sitting on the chaise. The tall man backed into the wall behind him and slid down to the floor, shaking. The woman stood and crossed the room, kneeling down beside him. Although she was his oldest "sister", she was the most maternal of their family. She stroked his pale cheek with her ebony fingers, soothing the fissures that were already knitting back together.

"Broer*, broer. Shhh…" She could see the tears starting to leak from his eyes as he trembled more, eyes beginning to darken. She gently turned his face to hers.

"Listen to me little broer. We won't let Father touch him. We have plenty of time to work something out. Alright?"

The tall man took a breath, and wiped his face with his hands.

"Alright."

…..

Despite the sullen start to the day, the remainder had been rather relaxing. After a dinner of Chinese take out they had both showered and were winding down for bed. Frank was sitting on the sofa, reading over a few news articles when Phil entered the den.

"I was reading that!" Frank whined when his tablet was unceremoniously removed from his hands.

"Mm hmm." Phil replied noncommittally as he gently tossed the device onto the adjacent armchair. He straddled Frank's lap and removed his boyfriend's glasses, planting a sloppy, wet kiss to his lips.

"Have I told you lately how much I love your eyes?" He asked as he gazed into the large brown orbs.

"Oh really?" Frank batted his eyelashes playfully.

"Mmm, they look like pools of rich chocolate. The good stuff. And then I start craving chocolate." He pulled away and began nuzzling the side of the brunette's neck while Frank tried to stifle a snort of laughter, which melted into soft "_Ah_'s" and "_Oh_'s". Phil swore he could hear and feel Frank begin to purr.

"That feels nice" Frank murmured while he ran his hands under Phil's thin nightshirt, fingers tracing the lines of his shoulder blades, vertebrae and muscles. He ran his hands around to Phil's chest and the black haired boy squirmed.

"Tickles…"

"I'll have to remember that." Frank chuckled lightly as his fingers swept over Phil's nipples, causing the buds to tighten.

"How's your butt?"

"Feels _a lot_ better than it did this morning. Thank you for the T.L.C. I'm sorry I was a crabby patient." Frank apologized and Phil grinned into the kisses he was planting along the side of Frank's neck.

"I'm glad, but I had an ulterior motive." Phil confessed. Frank's hands stilled. Last night had been amazing, but even after resting all day he didn't think he was up to a repeat performance, or to reciprocate.

"What did you have in mind?"

Phil sucked Frank's earlobe between his teeth, nipping and then releasing the soft flesh.

"I want to kiss it and make it better." was the breathy answer.

Now in the bedroom, Frank felt a little silly and exposed. He was on his stomach, naked, lying there like one about to get a back massage, which would have been perfectly fine if that had been all Phil had planned. But his hips were being supported by a couple of pillows and his buttocks were on display.

Phil, who was still dressed in his night clothes, propped himself up behind Frank, kissing a trail from his shoulder to the back of his neck. Frank could feel Phil's clothed hardness brush against him occasionally as his lover worked his way down his back.

Phil reached the divide of Frank's backside and grabbed two handfuls of pale flesh. He placed a few love bites here and there, causing the brunette to yelp and groan.

"Poor thing, still a little sore?" Phil cooed.

"Uh, huh." Frank answered dazedly.

"Well, let Dr. Cohen see if he can take care of that." He spread the firm globes apart, and heard Frank hiss a little. Phil licked a broad stripe over the crevice with his tongue. Frank started at the sensation, but Dr. Cohen held on. He made another pass, slower the time, enjoying the thrill and naughtiness of it all. Phil could smell Frank's bath soap, Lever 2000, nothing fancy. Frank didn't need fancy, because his natural musk stirred something primal in Phil.

"Gawd, Phil. That's feels so…"

"How? How's it feel Frank?"

"Mm, so good. More…" Phil pressed his wet tongue to his center, prodding. The moans and sighs coming from Frank were working their magic on his cock. He let go of Frank's ass long enough to push his pajamas down to his knees and began stroking himself. Phil pressed his tongue firmly into Frank's center.

"Ahhhh! Gah! Ph…" Phil pushed again, flexing his tongue. Frank cried out again and rocked his hips back against Phil, then he pushed forward, grinding into the pillow below him. A deliriously vicious cycle started as he fucked himself on Phil's tongue and fucked into the pillow. Phil reached under Frank, hand already moist from the saliva that had began to run down behind Frank's balls, and encircled his cock. He pumped in time with his own masturbating while still pressing his face onto Frank's ass.

Frank then bit down into the pillow under his head to muffle the feral scream that followed. Phil felt him convulse, and held his cock through his orgasm. He sat up on his haunches, pumped a few more times, and came hard over Frank's backside.

Phil flopped down beside Frank, too tired to worry about cleanup yet. He ran the back of his hand over his mouth and chin to remove the cooling dampness there. He glanced at Frank who was staring at him in a blissed-out, boneless heap.

"I swear you're gonna be the death of me." Frank said as he pressed a kiss to his lover's lips, "But what a way to go."

Author's Note:

*broer – Afrikaans: brother


	10. What Are You Doing for New Year's Eve?

Chapter 10: What Are You Doing for New Year's Eve?

Chet Morton climbed the third flight of stairs with heavy feet. _Why did he and Biff agree to an apartment in a building without an elevator?, _he lamented for not the first time. Sure, it was close to the hospital and the gym, they could save on gas. Rent was lower. But after a twelve-hour shift in the Emergency Room, the hike up to the fourth floor was a work-out Chet could do without.

"You nurses eat that sorry hospital food and drink Red Bulls all shift to keep going. I know you can't come to the gym as much as you used to, but hey, you worked too hard to let it all go, man. And think about your dad! Those stairs are a good thing." Biff would preach whenever Chet put up a fuss. He did have a point, Chet no longer resembled the stout boy of his adolescence, despite still being naturally large framed. And the stress of his sister's death and Mama Morton's home-style cooking had finally caught up to his dad, he suffered a heart attack and required a triple by-pass during Chet's first year of college.

That's part of what had inspired Chet to enter the field of medicine. He knew he'd never be able to afford med school, so nursing seemed a good fit. Anyway, he liked the fast pace of emergency medicine, so long as there was coffee to fuel him. He had received his R.N. the June after Joe and Vanessa graduated from the university back in May. It was a thankless, stressful career, and getting the R.N. definitely helped with his paycheck. However, at the end of the day, when he looked back on how many lives he and his team had saved or comforted, it was well worth it.

And now back to those damn stairs, he had finally reached the landing to his floor.

"Praise Jesus!" Chet muttered as he entered the apartment.

"Lucy! I'm home." He called out, but his ears were met with soft snores coming from the sofa.

Since Biff had come home the day after Christmas he'd gone back to his new routine of putting in extra time at the gym. But he hadn't taken the news of Carl Newby's death well at all. For the first time in months Biff got plastered the evening Chet and Joe broke the news to him. They struggled to get their muscle-bound friend to his bed that night, the whole way he kept mumbling nonsensical things like "He didn' kill 'is selllffff…", "Is a trick!", "They're here ya' know…" , "Is happenin' again…"

"Someone's been watching way too much cable T.V." Joe said.

Chet let Biff sleep as he dropped his jacket and keys on the kitchen bar. He opened the refrigerator door. Chinese leftovers? Nope. Leftover turkey and stuffing from Mama? Ugh, the low-sodium stuffing and baked turkey cutlets didn't hold a candle to the way she used to make it. Pass. Maybe if he woke Biff he'd be interested in going down to Los Tres Magueyes* for dinner. He'd get the fajitas, with rice, and some cheese dip to go with the chips and salsa…

"Ow! Motherfu…!" The ringing of the telephone woke him from the food dream and Chet banged his head on the inside of the fridge. Biff had left the cordless phone on the convertible kitchen/poker table. When he clicked the talk button, an authoritative, masculine voice spoke before Chet could even say hello.

"Allen!"

"Uh, I'm sorry this is Chet." There was coughing, hacking. Then a weaker, ancient voice was on the line.

"Chester? That you?  
"Uh, it's Chet. Yes Mr. Hooper, Biff's here, but he's asleep. Can I take a message?"

"Would you wake him up and tell him I'm calling him?"

"But he's…"

"Put him on the phone Chubby Checker!" the older man barked, then another fit of coughing. "Please, I really need to talk to him, sonny."

"Sure Mr. Hooper." Chet went to the sofa, and pushed on Biff's shoulder.

"Biff?"

"Uh?" another shove.

"Biff!"

"Wha?" Biff opened his eyes, blinking blearily.

"Your grandpa's on the phone." Chet handed the larger boy the phone as Biff sat up quickly.

"Papa? Yes sir. Yeah, that's what I was kinda thinking too…" The taller boy stood from the couch and headed to his bedroom. Chet shook his head. Old man Hooper was getting more crotchety with every passing year. He felt for Biff, he'd seen his own grandfather's decline into dementia and Alzheimer's disease. Sharp as a tack and in the here-and-now one minute, then thinking he was in foxhole somewhere in France, pointing his cane at Chet screaming "Die you fuckin' Kraut!" the next.

Thoughts of his grandfather left as his stomach rumbled in hunger again, but he was just too comfortable right now. After his long day the sofa cushions felt so good. He happened to glance at the laptop sitting on the coffee table, Biff probably fell asleep while he was on Facebook. As he leaned forward to close it he noticed it wasn't the social networking site Biff had been reading, but the local news site. The article that was up was the story about Carl's suicide.

Oh no. Not again. Biff really needed to get some fresh air or he was going to turn into Frank. Well, the old my-boyfriend-left-me-but-I'm-too-busy-for-a-social-life-anyway Frank. Chet liked the new Frank. Yeah, two of his childhood guy friends were dating, _each other_. It was a little weird at first, but they were still the same people as before. And hey, the girls seemed to be drawn to them regardless, even seemed to go all a-twitter whenever they realized Frank and Phil were an item. And whatever drew the ladies in couldn't hurt his chances.

That decided it then. Chet reached down in the pocket of his medical scrubs and pulled out his cell phone. He started dialing Frank's number. It had been months since all the guys had gone out together, and New Years Eve was Saturday night anyway. Besides, Biff was in dire need of a little intervention.

…..

"I don't think that should be a problem, it's been a little slow this week anyway. Yeah? Well don't forget to ask for Tony personally when you call to make reservations, that hostess of his can be a real snob. You too, man. 'Bye!" Frank hit "end" on his cell phone and rocked back on his heels. He couldn't wait to tell Phil that he had made plans for them for New Year's Eve.

Frank nearly skipped to Phil's, eh, office. The raven haired boy was typing away madly, not really aware of Frank's presence until he felt strong hands on his shoulders.

"You're not hacking into the Pentagon again are you?" Frank joked as he applied a light kiss to the top of the hacker's head.

"Actually I was looking for a nice B&B in Charleston for Valentine's Day weekend, you've got to book early. And that's all the details you're getting for now, mister." Phil returned the kiss to Frank's cheek.

"Well, what do you say to New Year's at Pasquale's with the guys and Van?"

"What do I say?" Phil grabbed Frank around his waist, pulling the brunette down onto his lap. "I say you've got a date."

…..

New Year's Eve? The dark woman pondered the upcoming night as she graceful paced the rooftop's concrete edge, skipping lightly over a mortared joint like a girl playing hop-scotch. She really didn't want to make an appearance in Pasquale's yet, or any of the establishments in Bayport. It really hadn't been long enough for their memories to fade. Given another year and she could walk in virtually a complete stranger. However, the night spot _would_ be crowded because of holiday.

She had been trying to find a seamless way to draw her little broer's plaything out. He had way too many ties to be severed, but desperate times called for desperate measures. A plan started to formulate in her mind. It wasn't the best plan, but it would be effective. Father wouldn't be pleased at first, but she'd known him long enough that as long as they received the desired results in the end, most would be forgiven.

The hardest part would be to make sure little broer kept to the plan, he was still too young and impulsive to be trusted completely. And there was no way he could show his face in Pasquale's, at least not for a long, long time. Give a decade or two.

Author's Note:

*Los Tres Magueyes – My favorite Mexican restaurant in my hometown. Woot!


	11. Countdown

Chapter 11: Countdown

"Dinner has arrived! One fish filet sandwich, extra crispy, hold the mayo, lettuce, tomato and the pickle. Two packets of malt vinegar and a side of fries, extra crispy." relayed Marcus as he placed the bag of take-out on the medical examiner's desk.

"Thank you Marcus. Any plans for New Years?" the doctor pleasantly asked his intern.

"A few of us are going to play Halo, maybe tune in and watch Seacrest do the ball drop."

"Oh, I do so miss watching Dick Clark's New Years Eve show."

"Dick who?"

"Never mind." Dismissed the doctor and he opened the paper bag.

"You're not staying here late again tonight, are you Dr. Wheeler? It's Friday." Asked Marcus somewhat guiltily for cutting out before his boss.

"I'm waiting on a call from the SBI lab, then I'll retire for the evening. Good night, Marcus."

"Good night, Dr. Wheeler." Alone in his office Dr. Wheeler set his food out on his desk. The fish sandwich smelled divine and it was still hot. No one in Bayport made fish and chips like he was accustomed to back in England, but the little sandwich shop down the road came the closest. Just as he sprinkled malt vinegar over the fish, a voice chirped on the telephone's intercom.

"Dr. Chowdhury, SBI, on line two."

"Thank you Sheila." He called out and picked up the handset.

"Hello Prema?"

"Dr. Wheeler, good evening. I've compared the two DNA profiles from the protein samples you sent. The one from the Langhorne case and the one from Newby." Reported a clipped, Indian-English accent.

In the aftermath of his lab being virtually destroyed months ago with Eric Langhorne's body being snatched, he'd had the good fortune to find the cotton swab tip that he had used to swab that unusual saliva-like substance on the body. In the process of performing Carl Newby's autopsy, he'd seen a similar swath of the protein-based fluid around the site on the victim's wrist. As if his wrist had been licked before it was cut. The DNA reports bore striking similarities, but the M.E. wanted a second opinion.

And there was another wrinkle in the alleged suicide. The blood-soaked nail supposedly used to incise the wrist was grossly corroded and oxidized. Yet there was no sign of rust to be found in the injury. These details had caused Dr. Wheeler to throw up the red flag on the suicide investigation.

"Did you see the same thing I saw Dr. Chowdhury?" There was hesitation, then a sigh.

"Yes, and honestly, I'm still scratching my head over it. Both samples contain the same secondary paternal markers. So there are two different donors, but somehow they are related. Sharing a grandparent maybe?"

"Yes, that's what I saw too, but what about the white elephant in the room?"

"I was afraid you were going to ask. Dr. Wheeler, the donors look to only be half human. I can not find an animal species in my database to determine what the other half of the DNA comes from…"

…..

Phil woke up on Saturday morning from the best sex dream ever. Frank had been behind him, fucking into his ass, and somehow in the front too, sucking him, massaging his cock. _Oh!_ _Dream do come true!_ He thought as it dawned on him that Frank was indeed behind him, the shaft of his hardened cock brushing the crease of his ass. His lover's arm was around and down his waist, stroking his cock lightly.

They had been tired from work the night before, but that hadn't stopped them from having just a little bit of fun, before falling asleep, naked and relaxed. Frank could now tell by the change in his breathing that Phil was awake. He squeezed a little firmer on Phil's member, and brushed his lips on the shell on Phil's ear.

"I want to fuck you." He whispered, then ran his pink tongue along the other's ear.

"Mmm, too sleepy, you wore me out last night." Phil lied, but Frank could see his cheek twitch with a grin.

"Then why don't you let me do all the work?" Frank nibbled the back of Phil's neck, slowly, moving down to his shoulder.

Phil whined when Frank removed his hand from his cock. He felt Frank grab his leg, encouraging him to push it toward his chest, which effectively gave Frank better access to Phil's center. A soft click, and then a slick finger brushed against him. It had been so long since he'd been truly entered, but he'd been giving Frank and his inexperienced fingers lessons in the evenings that week. Bless Frank Hardy and his eagerness to learn.

Frank's finger pressed in and Phil moaned, low and wantonly. Frank's slender finger slid in and out, rubbing over the entrance before sliding in again. He teased Phil's hole as it stretched easily for him. The sounds Phil made encouraged him, made him braver than he really was. He so didn't want to hurt Phil, but he slipped a second finger in, twisting and pumping. He'd finally worked his fingers in deep enough to truly explore. Phil was hot, tight, and his muscles clamped around Frank's fingers in a delicious way. He turned his wrist and found that wonderful place that had made his own toes curl when Phil had touched it in him.

"Fraaannk!" Phil cried out.

"Is that good?" Frank asked with mock innocence.

"More! Harder!" Phil begged as he grabbed his cock, stroking to ease the building pressure.

"No Phillip, hands off."

"Shak Li Batahat*!" Phil spat.

"Don't know what you said, but you make it sound so damn sexy." Frank said as he stroked Phil's prostate again. A third finger and Phil was rocking back against Frank's hand, his ass squeezing Frank's fingers

"Now! Frank, fuck me now! Please!" Frank removed his fingers and grabbed the leg he had moved earlier, hooking it behind his knee. Phil arched his back, pushing his ass closer to Frank. Frank slipped his cock between Phil's cheeks, grazing and teasing Phil's entrance with this head. Frank took a calming breath and pushed in, breaching Phil for the first time with his cock. The head above his shoulders began to swim. When he'd finally entered as far as he could go he stilled, gasping.

"Move, baby move."

The brunette gave an experimental thrust, and it was the most incredible feeling of his entire life. The intense pressure and heat around his cock brought tears to Frank's eyes. He felt like he could just melt into Phil, become one with him.

"Baby, you feel so good inside me. I'm so full, so, so…Ngh!"

Frank loved that Phil talked during sex. It spurred his own arousal and he pushed harder, faster. He clutched Phil's hip with one hand so hard that Phil would have bruises there for days. Frank carded the fingers of his other hand through Phil's dark curls, a tether to reality from the oblivion he was driving toward. Frank leaned up and latched himself to Phil's shoulder, sucking an impressive dark mark there.

"Fu…Gah!..." Phil howled as he came, his muscles clenching down around Frank's cock, instinctively beginning to milk Frank's orgasm from him. Frank lost it, rocking his pelvis wildly, balls slapping into Phil's backside and then suddenly stilling as the shudders ran through him.

When his senses returned he slid out of his lover, reached for some tissues from the bedside table, and began to clean himself and Phil up. Phil rolled onto his stomach, whimpering.

"Are you okay?" Frank asked, placing little kisses on those sculpted shoulders.

"Yeah." Phil answered, "Just very, very relaxed and sexed out." Frank smiled to himself, and continued to pepper kisses when his boyfriend amended:

"And very, very sticky…"

…..

"Look at you." Frank whistled as his future sister-in-law walked through the door. Vanessa was dressed in a navy blue velvet dress that flowed over her trim figure, complimenting her curves. Her corn-silk blonde hair was swept up in a twist. She spun on the ball of her heeled foot to give Frank the full three-sixty.

"She cleans up good, doesn't she?" Joe teased as he watched is fiancée flounce.

"Oh, Joe!" She admonished jokingly. She walked to the den and the young men followed.

"Where's Phil?" Joe asked, noting his absence.

"He's in the bat cave, doing what he does best." Frank shrugged. "But he's dressed and ready whenever we are."

"I see he did a good job of dressing you." Vanessa said as she plucked at the collar of Frank's dress shirt. The lavender dress shirt and charcoal grey sports coat and pants paired well with Frank's complexion, a refreshing change from his work day "uniform" of khakis and an oxford cloth shirt.

"He picked that out himself!" Phil stated proudly as he joined his friends in the room. He was sliding into a black suit coat that framed a dark blue dress shirt and black tie.

"How did I get lucky enough be surrounded by such handsome men?" Vanessa gushed as she looked around the room.

"Don't count your chickens yet Van, wait until we meet up with Chet and Biff."

"I swear if he shows up wearing a flannel shirt again I'm declaring a fashion emergency…" Phil started, but the phone rang so he stopped to answer it.

"That's the taxi, he's waiting downstairs."

"Well let's go, meter's running." Joe stood and held out a hand to Vanessa as she stood.

As they were about to close the door the phone rang again, Phil turned to get it but Frank stopped him.

"Don't bother, it's probably just the taxi driver getting impatient." They closed the door as the answering machine picked up.

"Hello? Frank? This is Dr. Wheeler. I'm sorry to be calling you on a Saturday, but you had asked me about your friend's case some months ago, so I'm calling you while I'm off the clock with some information you'll find interesting…"

…..

Chet and Biff had bickered before leaving for Pasquale's. Chet insisted that they call a cab so Biff could let his hair down. Biff insisted that he didn't feel like drinking and would be their designated driver, and that no female at Pasquale's was going to give her number to a lumberjack.

Biff won.

"What is with the corncob up your ass lately?" Chet groused as they neared the night spot.

"Whadya' mean?" Biff asked, eyes never leaving the road.

"Just, for the last few months you've gone all serious, busting your ass at the gym. Is something going on? You can tell me anything you know? That's what bros are for." Biff continued to look forward.

"Biff?"

"I… just have a lot on my mind. Sorry if I've been such a stick in the mud."

"Is it your grandpa? I know you've been seeing him a lot, and he sounded off kilter when he called this week." Biff's eyes widened, then he schooled his features to normal.

"Yeah, he's having his good days and bad days." Biff answered, and thankfully Chet dropped the subject as they pulled into Pasquale's parking lot.

…..

She sat at the bar, politely eating her hors d'oeuvres. The texture reminded her of hardtack, she could detect no flavor. Her cocktail tasted like stale, room-temperature water.

"Would you like another?" asked the friendly bartender. Oh, he's cute, he smelled good two. She looked at her glass, not realizing it was empty already. Nerves. Must explain why her mouth was so dry. She smiled sweetly and leaned forward.  
"Why, yes. Another Cosmopolitan, please? And would you mind putting it on the house tab?" she purred, making sure she breathed out her vowels seductively. The bartender inhaled, eyes losing focus.

"Yes, ma'am. One Cosmopolitan, on the house." The bartender turned from her to fix the drink.

A peel of laughter from the dining room caught her attention. A young blonde woman was laughing with a handsome group of men. Her left hand delicately touched the arm of the blonde man next to her. She could see the glint of the diamond ring on her finger. Those two were obviously a pair, engaged. Oh dear, was that the best he could do? She'd seen bigger, gracious, she owned bigger, diamonds. But she didn't want to draw that kind of attention tonight. Normally she enjoyed wearing her jewel-toned frocks and fine jewelry, but this was a night for subtlety. She only had one person's attention to attract this evening, and thanks to that giddy blonde, she'd finally spotted him.

…..

The tall man paced the rooftop, looking down onto the alley below. His heart was hammering in his chest. Stay focused. Be patient. The low whistling of a tune he didn't recognize drew his attention to the roof's edge.

"Must you do that?" he hissed irritably. The figure on the ledge shrugged nonchalantly.

"Can't get the tune out of my head." Was the answer, and he began again.

"Zeke!"

"Ezekiel." He corrected.

"Please! I'm dying here."

"Technically speaking, you're…"

"Argh!"

"Hey! Come on now, calm down, like we showed you." Ezekiel hopped up from his perch, trying to placate the tall man. The shorter man pulled an antique pocket watch from his waistcoat, "Look, it's a quarter to midnight. We're close!"

The tall man covered his hands over his nose and mouth and breathed in and out, slowly. Finally he was steady.

"I'm sorry…"

"It's okay." Ezekiel replaced his pocket watch and returned to his perch.

"I'll tell you what, why don't you whistle a little ditty this time?" he suggested as he removed his round, wire-framed glasses to clean with a handkerchief. "What's that one you had on your radio the other day? Oh! The song about the thrift shop and popping tags! Yeah, do that one! I like thrift shops, especially the DAV's. Some of those guys had really sharp taste, ya' know? And the quality! They just don't make stuff like they used to…"

The tall man groaned, and not for the first time that night contemplated shoving the shorter man from the ledge of the six-story building. But that would only piss Ezekiel off.

…..

Frank swayed to the rhythm of the slow song the band was playing, letting Phil take the lead in this dance. He was lost in thought as they the music played. A year ago, he was floundering in a sea of work, loneliness and depression. And now he was sailing, back to the beacon that had been there the entire time. Sometimes he wished he hadn't been so dense all those years ago. That he had not assumed he knew Phil's heart and had asked him out.

But Phil would just tell him that things happen when they do for a reason. That their ups and downs had been life lessons, maybe to teach them how to find their way to each other when they were ready. Frank had to give Phil credit. Where his life was filled with evidence, planning, reasoning, Phil had a handle on the philosophical side of life. They balanced each other out that way. The give and the take, yin and yang, coming full circle, being complete. Complete.

The song ended and they returned to their table. Vanessa was rubbing her sore feet discretely under the tablecloth and Joe had loosened his tie, still trying to cool off from the sweat he had worked up during the last fast song. Chet and Biff were standing at a nearby high-top table talking to some giggling young women.

"Seven minutes until midnight!" Joe announced as he looked at his watch.

"I think I'm going to powder my nose really quick." Vanessa picked up her clutch purse and headed to the ladies' room. Frank watched her go while he sipped his drink. As he lowered his glass he saw something that gave him pause. A woman, she looked familiar. Skin so dark she looked like a living statue of ebony.

Through the crowd, she seemed to be looking directly into his eyes. She smiled, her eyes twinkled, and she tilted her head in a "come hither" fashion. Realization struck Frank like a fist to the chest. Amy Johnson! She had been with Eric the night he died!

"Amy…" Frank whispered. At that the woman raised an eyebrow, as if to ask "Yes?"

Tony hadn't mentioned seeing her in Pasquale's in months. It was nearly midnight and the party would wind down, people would leave. This may be his only chance to talk to her.

"Frank?" he snapped his head around to Phil.

"You okay babe?"

"I, need to visit the men's room."

"But it's almost midnight." Phil protested weakly. Frank grimaced, an urgent look on his face and Phil understood. "Well, when you gotta go, you gotta go."

"I'll be right back, I promise." He kissed Phil quickly and left the table.

Phil sighed, once again, the king of bad timing. But he wouldn't let it get to him. It wasn't the end of the world if he didn't get a kiss at midnight. He just looked forward to all the other kisses the coming year promised.

"Having a good time guys?" Tony Prito asked as he passed around several flutes of champagne for the midnight toast. Chet walked over and plucked up a glass and handed one to Biff, but he waved it off in favor of his cup of coffee.

"Having a blast! Thanks for the table so close the band and dance floor." Chet tried to say over the ever growing clamor of the party crowd.

"Anything for my best customers!" Tony was obviously very pleased that Pasquale's was doing so well tonight. He turned to Phil.

"Why did Frank take off?"

"Restroom." But Tony shook his head.

"No… Men's room is that way." He pointed in the general area that Vanessa was returning from. "He looked like he was heading for the back door…" Tony stopped.

"Oh Jesus!" Tony went white, covering his mouth with his hand.

"Tony, what is it?"

"Oh guys I've been so busy tonight, I haven't been paying attention! He was following one of those people you guys asked me to keep an eye out for… What was it? Annie Jones, Angie something…"

"Amy Johnson!" Phil gasped. Biff set down his coffee cup and set off in the same direction.

"Not good!" he said cryptically.

"What Biff? He's probably going to ask her some questions?" Chet defended. But the look in Biff's eyes betrayed a fear his friends had never seen in him.

"Just stay here." Biff ordered. Joe balked and Phil stood to follow his friend.

"Like hell I am!"

…..

"Miss Johnson? Amy?" Frank called out as he tried to follow the woman through the crowd. The revelers' dancing and bustling around made it difficult to catch up. He saw her push open a door labeled "Staff", and disappeared. Frank went through the door and found himself in a small corridor. To the left he could hear the cacophony of the busy kitchen, to the right he heard the heavy click of a metal door. He followed the sound and reached the end of the hall. The metal door gave way to the snow covered alley.

Frank shivered. Damn it, why didn't he remember his jacket? Then he saw her, standing under the lamp light.

"Miss Johnson? I don't know if you remember me, I'm…"

"Frank Hardy. Yes, I remember you." Amy smiled, revealing a mouth of gleaming white teeth, a stark contrast to her skin.

"An old friend of Eric Langhorne's." Frank supplied. "I remember seeing you with him once. Right before he died. Do you remember anything about the last time you saw him?"

"I do. I remember that night. Vividly." She circled around Frank, cat-like. "But if it's information about Eric's passing you want, I have only one suggestion."

Frank was starting to grow impatient with whatever game this woman was trying to play. He never liked it when suspects tried to play mind games, but ordinarily he was clear headed and impartial enough to catch their bluff. This evening his logical self and awareness was dulled by alcohol.

"And what would that be?" He asked.

"That you ask him yourself." As Amy backed out of the circle of light, a tall figure stepped in. Frank's knees began to wobble and he felt the blood drain from his face as he stared at the man in front of him.

"Eric?"

Author's Note:

Yes, I took a bit of creative license with the DNA stuff. Seriously, what do you expect to find in vampire DNA?

*Shak Li Batahat – Hebrew: kiss my ass.


	12. An Auld Acquaintance

Chapter 12: An Auld Acquaintance

"Eric!" Frank didn't know to laugh, scream or cry. Eric was alive! But, no, he saw the body in the morgue, he'd touched his face and he'd been so cold. And here he was, same green eyes, same ginger hair. Eric stepped closer, a beaming smile on his face.

"Frank, I…" but he never finished as the back door opened with a bang, and the distant chorus of _Auld Lang Syne_ flooded the alley.

"Frank, get away from him!" bellowed Biff as he ran out. Phil and Joe caught up and flanked Biff. Chet and Vanessa stopped at the threshold, stunned by the scene before them.

"Eric?" Joe questioned, "I don't get it!" But never mind getting it, the stance that both Biff and Eric had assumed told Joe things were about to get ugly. He looked back at his friend behind him, and mouthed "Get Van out of here!" Chet nodded and pulled the blonde out of the doorway.

"Get Tony, now!" Chet told her as he shoved her toward the corridor. She yelped by didn't protest, quickly kicking off her heels and leaving them behind so she could run for help.

When Chet turned back he thought he heard a feral growl, but he saw no animals. Instead Eric was in a protective crouch in front of Frank, eyes dark and teeth bared. Oh Sweet Jesus! The teeth! If he didn't know better he'd swear Eric was a…

"Get…back…" Eric snarled, "No one needs to get hurt." Frank was dumb-struck, trying to get his muzzy head to catch up. Although he couldn't wrap his brain around why Eric was there, and why he was snarling at his friends, one thing was certain. They were in trouble, more specifically his friends. And Phil!

"Eric! Please tell me what's going on!" he begged, Eric turned and Frank saw his face again. His eyes had turned a dark, blood red, fangs bared, an animalistic scowl across his features. Every fiber of Frank's being screamed to run, get his friends out of there, because who or whatever this was before him was not the man he'd once loved. But Frank forced himself to stay calm. "I…I don't understand, what has happened to you?"

Eric's eyes softened, the red paling as he focused on Frank. His shoulders slumped and he took another step toward his love.

"I'll have to explain later, but we need leave, now!" His breath flowing over Frank's face like a balmy breeze.

"He's not going anywhere with you!" Phil hollered from the tall man's left and Biff tackled him from the right. Joe and Chet dove into the dog pile to help Biff subdue Eric, and Phil ran to Frank as he saw the brunette begin to sway on his feet.

"Are you okay?" Phil asked quickly.

"I'm fine, a little dizzy, but we need to help Joe and …" There were two hard thumps, and on either side of them were Amy and a bespectacled teenager.

"I'm sorry Frank, but you're coming with us." She said calmly.

"Arghhh!" Eric recovered from the initial attack and threw Joe and Chet off his arms, but Biff managed to hold on, having Eric in a headlock. Joe and Chet landed on the pavement with a loud "Uff!", the wind knocked out of them.

"Joe!" Frank and Phil ran to his brother and Chet, Amy letting them pass. As long as she kept Frank corralled in the alley she really didn't want to get into the fray, she really liked this dress.

For a moment, Biff seemed to be getting the upper hand on Eric, but the ginger suddenly arched his back and grabbed the back of Biff's neck, throwing the athlete against the large metal dumpsters with a sickening crunch.

"Oh shit! Biff!" Chet yelled as Phil was helping him up. He just saw his best friend get killed. Red filled his vision as he lunged toward Eric, but was intercepted and batted away by the teenager as if he weighed nothing. His back hit the brick wall and he slumped to the ground, barely conscious.

Joe and Phil charged forward. Amy quickly stepped in front of Joe, grabbing him around his throat and lifting him several inches off the ground.

Phil reached Eric, fist raised, but the taller man clutched the lapels of his suit coat and shoved him forcefully into the brick wall. Phil's head swam from the collision, but all he could focus on was the entrancing smell of Eric's breath, and the words he spoke.

"You…" The ginger said low and menacingly. "He gave you everything didn't he? The part of himself that he could never give to me? But what can you give _him_? Hmm? Love? Compassion? _Eternity_?

No… You can't give him forever. I can! No more pain, no more close calls. No more death! We will be together for eternity, and you…will…die! You are his tie to this life that I'll sever first!" Eric sneered. He opened his mouth, angling his head to Phil's neck.

"NO!" Frank screamed! Frank had looked all around him and a matter of second had virtually slowed down like a hundred years. Biff was dead, Joe was being strangled and Chet was injured. And Phil! Eric was about to kill his Phil. No, this couldn't be happening. He was losing everyone one that he loved or cared for, and all he had to do was one thing. The one thing that Eric wanted…

"No! Stop, please let them go! I'll go with you, Eric, please." Immediately Amy dropped Joe, he collapsed and began wheezing to get his breath back.

"Eric, just don't hurt any of them. I love you, and I've missed you so much. Please." Eric seemed dubious, but Frank was in tears.

"What about him?" Eric shook Phil, which resulted in the back of his head being slammed into the wall. Frank saw a smear of blood on the brick surface, Phil eyes rolled and he slumped limply.

"He was just a rebound. I was lonely. But you're right, he can't give me what you can."

"But you told him…" Eric shook his head.

Joe had recovered just enough to look at his brother.

"Frank…what are you doing? No!" He kneeled and coughed more, trying to manage his breathing.

"Just let me say good bye to my brother." Frank pleaded. Eric nodded and released Phil's coat, the dark haired boy collapsing like a rag doll. Frank's heart actually hurt, a physical pain, like a knife lodged there was being twisted. He wanted nothing more than to take Phil up in his arms and hold him, make sure he was okay. But, in a way, it was better he was mercifully unconscious now. If Phil had been awake, if he could see those honey and hazel eyes right now, Frank wasn't sure he'd have the will to leave.

On shaky legs he moved to his brother and knelt down next to him. Joe grabbed him, clinging to his shirt.

"Are you crazy? What do you think you're doing? You can't…" Joe insisted in a hoarse whisper.

"Whatever they are, we're no match for them! They've already killed Biff, I can't let them kill you, Chet and Phil too!" Frank whispered back. He gathered Joe in an embrace, Joe returned it, not willing to let go. _No_. Frank thought, _don't make this any harder Joe_.

"It's me they want. You take care of everyone here, I'll try to figure this out." Frank wasn't sure how well this trio could hear, if their inhuman strength was anything to go by. But he could feel their gaze upon them. He spoke as quietly and clearly as he could manage through his tightening throat.

"I love you little brother. And tell Phil I said "_ani ohev otcha_." Can you remember that?" Joe nodded, sniffing wetly against his brother's shirt.

"I hear someone else coming." Amy warned Eric. "We need to go!"

Eric walked over to Frank and Joe, squatting beside the brothers and gently touching Frank's arm.

"Time to go." He said softly. Eric held Frank's arm in an attempt to help him to his feet, and draw him away from Joe.

Joe watched as Eric turned Frank to him, grabbed his face and kissed him. Frank resisted a little at first, surprised and was pushing against Eric's chest. But as suddenly as he'd tried to fight, he stopped, dropping his arms. The younger Hardy's blood pressure began do soar. Wasn't it bad enough that they'd been beaten, killed one of them, that Frank was sacrificing his self to save the rest of them? But to rub it in their faces by seducing his brother in front of them?

"You fucking bastard!" Joe gritted through his teeth. Eric broke from the kiss, Frank's eyelids had drooped, his legs unable to support him, so the ginger held fast. He exhaled over Frank's mouth and nose and the older Hardy went completely limp.

"Frank! Frank! You son of a bitch! What did you do to him?" Joe screamed and started to get up, but the teenager merely pushed down on his shoulder and the blonde found himself back on his ass.

"Old vampire trick, it'll make him more cooperative for travel." The youth mentioned lightly.

All Joe's protests had gone completely unnoticed by Eric. He scooped Frank up in his arms and whoosh! He was gone.

Joe blinked, not believing what he'd just witnessed. Amy nodded to the teenager, then sashayed to the edge of the alley, and just as Eric had, she was gone in a flash.

"Say Good Night, Gracie." Quipped the teen in glasses.

"Say wha…" Joe felt a blinding pain and pitched forward, his world tilting on its axis.

…..

"Joe! Oh my G-d, Joe!" he felt warm fingers on his face. Joe blinked and looked up to see Vanessa hovering over him. He sat up, head throbbing and swimming. Joe looked to his left and saw Tony trying to rouse Chet.

"Joe, where's Frank and Eric? And what was with Eric? Why'd he look so strange?" Why did Vanessa have to ask so many questions at once? But he couldn't be cross with her, he had a million questions right now too.

"Van, I don't think you're going to believe me, but if I didn't know better, I'd say Eric was a…"

"Vampire." A familiar voice finished for him. Joe turned his head a little too quickly to the sound of that voice.

"Biff!" Chet shouted as he let Tony help him to his feet. The muscular boy was trying to get up, joints popping and shaking his head to clear the cobwebs.

"How are you alive?" Joe asked, leaning his weight against Vanessa. Biff stood, banged up but no worse for wear. The dumpster he had collided with hadn't faired as well, Waste Management was going to have to send a new one.

"I promise you I'll explain later, but for right now…" A moan caught their attention.

"Oh shit! Phil!" The friends raced over to the wall Phil was lying against. Chet and Tony got there first, with Chet going into R.N. mode to assess his friend's injuries. There was blood, a lot of it, under Phil's head, matting into his curls.

"Tony, help me turn him." Gingerly they rolled Phil onto his side. He had a nasty gash on the back of his head that was going to need stitches.

"He needs to go to the hospital, doesn't he?" asked Joe. Chet withdrew his bloody hand but shook his head. "I think I can stitch him up. Beside, do you really want to go to a busy E.R. on New Years, and tell them we got our asses handed to us by a bunch of vampires?"

Author's Note:

Sorry for the short chapter here.

I'd like to thank all of you who have reviewed and left your encouraging comments, you have no idea how much it means to this novice.

I feel it is fair to warn you all that in the next few chapters, things will take a dark turn. We will get into some very troubling topics like dub-con and non-con. I will apply a warning to the beginning of those chapters for those who may be triggered by those things.


	13. Of Dreams and Nightmares

Chapter 13: Of Dreams and Nightmares

"I know its hard starting to a new school this late in the school year, but you'll make friends, I promise." The woman told her son. She hugged him, just as the school bus pulled in front of their house.

"Mommm… the other kids are looking." The boy whined. She brushed a few locks of his dark curling hair and kissed his forehead.

"Fine then, have a good day…"

..

"Class, I would like for you to meet our newest student who just moved to Bayport from New Jersey." The teacher announced brightly. "Would you like to introduce yourself?"

The boy turned to the class, waved shyly and cleared his throat.

"Hi, my name is Phil." He said quietly.

"Your full name, dear. And speak up."

"My name is Phillip Aaron Cohen."

"What's that on your head?" asked one girl.

"It's called a kippah."

"Why do you talk funny?" asked a boy.

"Brian! That's impolite!" she then turned to Phil, "Why don't you have a seat? Then we'll get started with today's lesson."

There were only two vacant seats. One was behind a tall and menacing looking boy, who smirked when he caught Phil's eye. Uh oh, Phil knew that look, and he'd rather like to keep his lunch money, and his homework, and his teeth. The other was in front of a brown haired boy with large brown eyes. He looked harmless enough. The boy looked at him, then down at the desk before him and shrugged. Well, this was better than the alternative.

..

"Give it back!" The brown eyed boy ordered. It had been three days since Phil had started the new school. He'd developed the habit of slipping his kippah into his back pocket as soon as he got a block away from his house. He'd been trying to keep a low profile at school, but today his luck ran out. The bear of a boy who had intimidated him on that first day had finally caught up to him at recess. Somehow the boy had managed to pick his back pocket. He and his lanky minion were now playing a game of keep away with Phil's kippah.

"Or what will you do?" challenged the beefy boy.

"Or I'll let it be known that you are the one who's been getting into Ms. Hamilton's reward stash." The brown haired boy was referring to a box of assorted sweets that their teacher stored on the top of the classroom supplies cabinet. The treats were reserved for Fridays, when she would reward everyone who made a B or better on their end of the week tests.

"And what makes you think it's me? Anyone could get on a chair and reach into that box."

"Actually no, only someone _tall_ enough to reach into the box once they were on the chair. You're the tallest kid in the school, Wayne." Wayne's chubby face flushed bright red, but he knew the boy had him over a barrel. He tossed Phil's kippah to his feet.

"Fine!" the boy huffed, then he and his friend turned and walked away. Phil picked up the battered kippah and brushed it off.

"I'm Frank, by the way." The brown haired boy said. Phil looked up, and soft smile was on Frank's face.

"I know, heard the teacher say your name during roll call." The dark haired boy spat, the sting of humiliation still fresh. "I'm sorry. Thank you." He added quietly.

"It's alright. Those guys are jerks. You just have to know how to stand your ground." Frank replied. Frank motioned toward the kickball field.

"Allen and I were going to start up a game, you wanna be on our team?" Phil's eyes widened. Never in his young life had he been invited to join a team, normally he was the last to be picked.

"Yeah, sure."

..

"Your dad's a detective? Cool!" Phil enthused as he bit into his apple. It was a Friday afternoon, the boys and a few friends were hanging out in the Hardy's back yard. Frank's little twerp of a brother was hanging upside down from a tree branch.

"Lookit me Fwank!" called the blonde boy.

"You better get down before you fall and crack your skull! Or worse, Mom sees you!" the older brother called. He turned back to Phil.

"So, what does your dad do?"

"He's a jeweler and silversmith. He opened a branch of the family business here in Bayport, that's why we moved."

"Any brothers or sisters?" Frank asked as he watched his brother take a daring, and cringe-worthy, leap from the tree house to the grass below.

"Older brother, Samuel. He's in college already, so really it's just me at home."

"Ugh, yuck! Cheth, will you tell your little sisther not to kissth me!" Joe lisped through his missing front teeth. Iola giggled madly and ran around to the back of the tree.

"Chester! Iola, honey! Your mom's here!" called Laura Hardy from the screen door.

"Later taters!" laughed Chet as he ran for the back door. Iola ran up to Joe and blew a raspberry on his cheek.

"Gross!" squealed the blonde as the tiny girl ran off. But as she disappeared through the door, a silly grin was plastered to his face.

..

"I think that Callie girl likes you." Phil told his friend. Frank looked up from this Pre-Algebra homework to look across the cafeteria. The pretty strawberry-blonde was laughing with a few of her girlfriends. She glanced toward Frank and smiled, Frank smiled back, a slight blush growing across his cheeks. The girl sitting beside Callie Shaw noticed they were making eyes at each other, and whispered something in Callie's ear. She began to giggle and the whole table joined her.

"Why don't you talk to her after school?" asked Allen, er, Biff.

"I can't today, baseball practice after school."

"She's a friend of my cousin, Rachel. Would you like for me to invite her to my Bar Mitzvah? You'll get to talk then." Phil suggested.

..

"Well when can you make time for this project? It's due in three weeks!"

"Are you listening to yourself? Three weeks, Phil! It's not the end of the world! We'll get together Monday after school and start laying out our diagram and go from there."

"Well what's so important that we can't get started this Saturday?" asked Phil.

"I'm taking Callie to a movie." Frank explained.

"Figures…"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well lately it's Callie this, Callie that… I suppose now that you got your driver's license you'll be spending all your time with her."

"If I didn't know better I'd think you were jealous."

"What? That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard!" It had never occurred to Phil that he was envious of the time Frank was spending with Callie, until now.

...

"Well, one thing about it, you'll have an impressive scar to show off to the girls." Frank tells Phil as he admires Dr. Bates' handiwork.

Frank and Joe had been doing some ground work for a drug smuggling case, even though their father had insisted that they stay at home and stay out of the way. When a clue had practically fallen in their laps, they had followed through, with Chet and Phil tagging along to help. After an all-out brawl with the bumbling thugs and their eventual apprehension, the boys were left to lick their wounds.

One of the felons had hit Phil over the head with a glass bottle, resulting in a cut over his hairline. Although Frank was injured as well, he could still drive, so he drove Phil to the emergency room to get checked out.

"My mom's going to kill me." Phil worried.

"I'll tell your mom you were a hero." Frank said as he fiddled with the medical tape on his finger splints.

"Sure, that'll help." Phil replied sarcastically.

"No really, you showed a lot of guts out there today. If you hadn't clobbered that bad guy with that pipe when you did I probably would've gotten a lot worse than this." Frank indicated his taped up hand. "Thanks for helping us out, I don't know what we would have done without you."

…

"Phil, what would I do without you?" Frank clapped Phil on the shoulder. He'd done it! He'd finally managed to hack into a highly protected database! And he was afraid he was going to be either struck by lightening, or the Feds were going to bust into his mother's living room any moment now.

"So this proves what you thought all along, Frank. Smithson did transfer those funds to Adkins' account, he paid him off! We've got our proof!" Joe hoped up from the end of Phil's bed and started downstairs. Phil printed off a screen capture of the ledger and handed it to Frank. The brunette wrapped his friend in a bear hug, then left to follow his brother.

"Thanks Phil!" You're the best!"

…

"Why did I have to overhear about it in the locker room and not straight from my best friend?" Frank looked hurt, angry, confused. "So is it true?"

"Does it matter either way? I'm still the same person you've known since fourth grade!"

"Of course it doesn't matter." Frank sat beside Phil on the side of Phil's bed.

"I just came out to Mom and Dad this weekend. They're still reeling from the news. I… was going to tell you guys, soon." Phil turned to look at Frank, "I wasn't trying to lie to you." They were silent for a while.

"So, is there someone special?" Frank asked, giving Phil's shoulder a friendly bump with his own. Phil looked at his friend, and to his surprise those brown eyes looked, hopeful? Impossible! Frank had been dating Callie Shaw all through high school, they were making plans for prom…

"Well, yeah. I imagine that's how this whole thing worked its way into the grapevine." Phil sighed. "Chris, with the school newspaper."

"Collins?"

"Yeah, he's a bit of a blabbermouth, but he's cute."

"Oh." If Phil didn't know any better he'd swear Frank seemed disappointed, given the way he slouched suddenly. Frank was nervously biting his lower lip. Damn. What he'd give to kiss those soft looking lips.

…

"I just can't pretend anymore, you know?"

"So…Callie didn't take it very well?" Phil poured Frank more coffee, black coffee. Frank Hardy showing up at his dorm at one in the morning drunk as a skunk and crying didn't happen every day. Didn't happen ever. He didn't even think Frank would even dare try alcohol until he was at least legal, overgrown Boy Scout that he was.

"Callie? She… she said I disgusted her. That I was damned to hell, a sinner…"

"Don't let what she says get to you."

"I know I shouldn't. You know, Mom and Dad were like "Frank, we love you, we just want you to be happy…" Joe was kind of blown away, it's still sinking in I guess. He's speaking to me, it's still a little awkward, but getting better." Frank sniffed, rubbed his eyes. "I mean, we broke up a couple weeks ago, she's already had a date with a guy from the football team. She said when we broke up "I still love you Frank, I want us to still be friends." So I thought I could tell my "friend" (he used air quotes) about this. Thought she'd at least loved me enough to understand."

Phil was quiet as Frank poured his heart out. He would love to just take him in his arms, soothe his aching heart. But Frank was going to need his space. This wasn't going to be easy, he'd found that out the hard way. If you have the love and acceptance of your family, you're at least halfway there. Then you have the whole wide world to deal with.

"I hate to break it to you, but she's not going to be the last to react like this. I'll give Biff a little credit, he's got a gay cousin that he's been going hunting with since his dad died. Chet and Tony, they got over it in time. I'm sure they'll be understanding. But yeah, there are some really closed-minded assholes out there. This is who you are, you're just going to have to learn how to stand your ground."

…

"His name's Eric. We met at that coffee shop off campus."

"Has he got a cute butt?" Vanessa asked as she nibbled on a bag of chips in the student center.

"Vanessa….yeah, he's got a cute butt." The blonde girl giggled at Frank's answer. The brunette blushed and took a sip of his soda.

"Isn't he older?" Phil asked.

"By a couple of years. But he's working on his Master's."

"Master's in which discipline?"

"Vampirism." Phil felt a chill.

"What did you say, Frank?"

"I've got to head to my next class." Frank stood, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and started walking. Vanessa continued to sit on the elongated student center couch, flipping through a textbook.

"Frank, where are you going?"

"I have to go with him." He continued walking.

"Frank, come back!" Phil stood up, ran to Frank. He grabbed for his arm, but his hand slipped through as if he wasn't there. He looked ahead to the direction Frank was walking in. Eric. The red headed bastard stood there with his arms opened wide, ready to take Frank into his embrace.

"Frank, stop, don't go!"

…..

"Frank! Don't go!" Phil was on his stomach, lying across the sofa in his and Frank's apartment.

"Oh shit! Someone hold him down!"

Phil's world felt like it was on fast forward in pan-o-vision. He saw a pair of knees in dirty dress pants approach. Felt a pair of soft, delicate fingers stroke his forehead. Someone was sitting on his back? He couldn't move his back, neck, and head. His head was pounding and he was nauseated. Oh how he was nauseous. Someone was sticking pins in the back of his head. Why would someone do that? Why were there pins in his head? His eyes roved over the room and he saw the coffee table. A bowl of water, a red washcloth, cotton balls, blood-soaked cotton balls and gauze pads. A pack of suture needles and thread…

"Blerghhh!..."

"Aw man, I'm gonna be sick too!"

"Don't you dare! I'm almost done here!

"I'll get him a bucket and something to clean that up with."

Phil heaved again, more violently this time.

"Biff, hand me that hypodermic right there."

"You gonna numb him again?"

"No, I'm gonna knock his ass out!"

Phil felt something akin to a bee sting in his backside, and almost immediately the world became a merrier place. He relaxed, the nausea ebbed and he was so sleepy. Maybe he would feel better if he just closed his eyes…

…..

Frank was standing in their bedroom, in his usual cotton shirt and khakis. Phil tried to sit up to go to him, but he couldn't move, like his back was glued to the bed.

"I'll try to figure this out." Frank walked closer to him, but still out of reach. Phil noticed Frank's shirt sleeves were rolled up, his habit whenever he was web surfing or typing on the computer at the office. On his wrist Phil could see a glint of silver. Wait, yes!

"You won't lose me, Phil."

Author's Note:

Sincerest apologies to those who like her for the Callie bashing.


	14. Confessions

Chapter 14: Confessions

Phil woke up late New Years Day to the sound of snoring. Loud snoring. It was making his head pound. He tried to reach behind and hit whomever the noise was coming from, but he found his movements impeded by something soft. Phil tried to sit up and noticed he was lying on his left side. Pillows were wedged behind his back and against his chest, apparently to keep him on his side as he slept. He turned his head to follow the snoring (Ow! Ow! Ow!) coming face to face with a pair of dry, ugly feet. Glancing down to the foot of the bed Phil found Chet Morton, sprawled under a spare blanket.

Memories of the previous night flooded his mind, the last one being a blurry, garbled scene of Frank shouting, then begging. Frank!

"Chet! Chet! Where's Frank?" but he only continued to snore. Phil sat up slowly, dizziness and the urgency of nausea washing over him, so he quickly staggered to the bathroom. Later as he washed his hands and face he looked at himself in the mirror. He looked like hell. Phil experimentally touched the stitches in the back of his head and winced. That was when he heard Chet stirring.

"Phil, hey man, where'd you go?" Chet asked, his voice raspy from sleep. Phil stepped out from around the bathroom door. Chet was sitting up, still wearing his dress pants from the night before, but had removed his button-up shirt in favor of his white cotton undershirt.

"Where's Frank?" Chet lowered his head.

"They took him." Phil sank back down on the bed, devastated.

"Have you called Biff's family?" He asked with a shaky voice.

"He's alive."

"What? Where is he? Bayport Memorial or did they fly him to Center State?"

"He's in your guest room, asleep."

"What!" All this was beginning to be too much, and he began to sway where he sat.

"Look Phil, lay back down before you pass out. I'm going to get my kit and check you out, then I'll call Joe and Vanessa. Okay?"

"But I can't, we gotta get out there, find Frank." Another wave of dizziness and he moaned.

"Yeah, well you just sit tight. I'll wake up Biff and be right back."

…..

After a quick assessment, Chet surmised that Phil should be fine despite the sutured lump on the back of his head. He handed Phil a couple of aspirins and searched his freezer an ice pack and some steaks. As he applied the ice pack to his head, Phil gave Chet a funny look, glancing at the thawing steaks on the counter.

"You lost a lot of blood with that head wound. I want you to take in a lot of fluids and eat these steaks after I fix 'em. And don't give me a hard time, you're gonna eat them medium rare." Phil crinkled his nose.

"For one, you need the protein to counter-act the alcohol still floating in your system, and you need the iron for the blood loss."  
"Did they teach you that in nursing school?"

"No, my grandpa."

"Too bad you didn't go on to med school, Chet. You'd make a great doctor." Spoke up Joe as he sipped on some freshly brewed coffee.

"If I had, I'd have to send you a bill every time I patched you idiots up to pay for the student loans." Chet sat down on the other side of the kitchen table, running a hand over his shortly cropped hair.

"So, that happened last night."

"I feel like I'm waking up from some weird-ass dream." Joe confessed. "I mean, vampires, really?"

"I'd never have believed it either. If it weren't for the pointy teeth and those eyes, I would have thought they were strung out on drug, like having 'roid-rage or something. But that message on the answering machine from Dr. Wheeler gives some credence to it. We ain't in Kansas anymore."

"Our machine?" asked Phil.

"Yeah, hope you don't mind, but after we got you in bed I saw the message light flashing. I checked it out to see if there was, I dunno, some sort of indication that maybe Eric was trying to contact Frank. But Dr. Wheeler had left a message about the DNA tests that were run. They can't identify half the DNA sequence with any known animal species. But it's definitely not one hundred percent human." Joe and Chet continue to talk about the incredibility of vampires existing among them, but Phil was growing increasingly agitated. In all his years of knowing the Hardys, whenever one of their own was in trouble they hot-footed it to the rescue. Yet here sat Chet and Joe, sipping coffee, chit-chatting. Phil slammed the ice pack on the table, startling his companions.

"What the fuck is wrong with you two? Why aren't you calling the police? Your dad? Why aren't we back in that alley looking for evidence?"

"We're not going to find any evidence, Phil." Phil quickly turned around (Ow!) to see Biff lumbering out of the guest bedroom.

"Who died and made you a detective?" Phil spat at his friend. "And how are you not dead? How do you look like you're in better shape that any of us (noting the scrapes and bruises on Joe and Chet)? I saw the dent on that dumpster, you should at least be in full body cast!"

Biff let Phil continue his rant as he calmly sat in the vacant chair next to Joe. Phil's anger was dissolving into confusion and grief.

"What is going on? We need to get Frank. You saw those…monsters…they'll kill him!"

"They're not going to kill him." Biff said.

"How do you know?" Phil was a wreck, shaking.

"Because if they had really wanted to kill Frank, they would have already. Then and there. Us too."

"You guys were out of it, but the last few moments Frank was there, Eric was really gentle with him…" Joe started telling them.

"I don't want to hear about how gentle that putz was with my boyfriend!"  
"Frank did what he had to do to calm him down." Joe defended. "He begged Eric not to kill you! Or us. He had to say things to bring him around. And it worked obviously."

"If Eric cares so much for Frank, he definitely won't kill him." Biff added.

"So what will he do, Mr. Know-it-all?"

"He'll turn him."

…..

After another run to empty his stomach, Phil sat on the sofa, nursing a glass of ice-cold ginger ale that Biff handed him. Chet and Joe were busy in the kitchen fixing something that resembled a breakfast.

When it was ready, Phil toyed with the fried eggs and still bloody steak. He had no appetite, and all he could do was mourn for Frank.

"You gotta eat and get your strength back up." Chet said around a mouthful.

"What's the point?" Phil asked morosely, "Frank's gone, probably a vampire by now. He'll turn into a monster like Eric and I'll… we'll never see him again." At Phil's words, Joe put his fork down, pushing his fingers against his eyes to stop the tears that were beginning to sting.

Biff stood from the table and removed the calendar from the wall. He flipped it over and looked at the smaller version of the new year on the back.

"I'd say we have three, maybe two weeks at least before he's turned." Biff said as he set the old calendar on the kitchen counter.

"Come again? You mean you don't turn after you get bit, or whatever?" Chet asked.

"It's a gradual process. Like any other drug or toxin, too much at once and it'll kill you."

"How do you know so much about vampires?" Joe asked. Biff shyly stared at his hands.

"Imaslayer." It was such a quick reply that the others barely heard it.

"I'm sorry, what?" Joe leaned forward.

"I am a slayer." Biff enunciated each word. Dead silence. His friends stared at him blankly. Biff sighed and started eating, allowing the trio time to digest the information.

"You slay vampires." Chet said slowly.

"I'm not an Alpha yet, but I've helped my cousin Buddy on several hunts."

"Buddy? Gay Buddy that you go deer hunting with." Joe asked.

"I always had a hard time believing a gay man would willingly go deer hunting." Muttered Phil.

Joe suddenly started to titter.

"Okay, lemme see if I can get this straight. My brother has been kidnapped by…vampires! And now I find out that one of my best friends is a vampire slayer! Biffy the vampire slayer!" Biff screwed his face up in a frown and banged his fist on the table.

"Listen to me! You would never have believed me if I had told you before now. You didn't even believe vampires existed until you saw them with your own eyes and listened to that message on the machine. The only way I can convince you guys that I'm telling the truth is to show you." Biff stood up, his chair screeching and tumbling over. "If you want to have even a remote shot at saving Frank, I suggest you rest up and call in sick tomorrow morning. We're taking a road trip!"

…..

Phil couldn't sleep that night. Every time he closed his eyes he saw visions of vampires, dark alleys, and Frank. He couldn't sleep on his back, it put too much pressure on his injury. He turned to his right, but the moon was full and bright, burning through his eyelids. Normally the ambient light didn't bother him, no such luck tonight. Phil flipped over to his left, but he was staring at Frank's side of the bed. He moved closer, touching Frank's pillow. When he pulled it to his face and he could smell hints of Frank, his shampoo, his aftershave.

"Where are you, baby?" he asked no one. He closed his eyes again, begging sleep to take him.

His mind finally began to drift.

He was in his father's store, watching Mr. Cohen lock the center link onto the engraver. _I won't lose you_.

Frank was sitting at the kitchen table with his tablet, unconsciously tapping his fingers, the bracelet Phil gave him for Christmas clinking in time with the taps.

Phil sat straight up in bed. How could he have been so stupid to forget? He scrambled out of bed to the other end of the apartment, tapping furiously on his computer.

"Come on, come on!" Nothing. Phil leaned back in his chair. That didn't make sense. The tracking device he'd had installed in Frank's bracelet, just for situations like this, had failed. No signal appeared to be emitting, according to his software. That was nuts! It was working before Christmas while it was still sitting in the box, he'd tested it!

An idea hit him and Phil looked at the movement history, starting back to Christmas Day. It had recorded every move Frank had made, going to work, coming home, going to the store, the gas station, and so on up until twelve thirty New Years Day morning. The location of the last transmission came from the entrance of Hersher State Park, two hours from Bayport.

…..

"Hersher? You don't think the vamps have got some sort of home based in the park do you?" Chet asked when Phil told the guys about the tracking device the next morning.

"That's the only thing I can think of. The transmission stopped when they got a few feet inside the main entrance. They must have found the bracelet and destroyed it, that's got to be why it stopped sending out a signal."

"That bracelet was silver, wasn't it?" asked Biff.

"Yes, pure Jerusalem silver. I paid Dad to order it for me. When it came in I went by the store and installed the device before he set the emerald. Why?"

"They wouldn't have touched it, at least not directly. Silver is a caustic substance to vampires. The purer and holier the origin, the more powerful the silver. It's not necessarily crucifixes that you can use to injure a vamp, it's the silver it's made of, especially if it's been blessed."

"Well, if they are indeed in Hersher Park, without that signal it's going to be like finding a needle in a haystack." Phil lamented.

"What about a satellite image? Look for any camps or buildings?" Chet asked as he closed his travel mug.

"There aren't any satellite images to be found, it's like they're using some sort of signal scram…"

"What?"

"A signal scrambler, or blocker. That has to be why the bracelet failed!" Phil exclaimed.

"Vampires have technology?"

"This is the twenty first century, we all roll with the times." Added Biff.

"Well Phil, as slightly creeped out as I am that you would put a tracking device on someone you're dating, namely my brother, I'm glad you did. At least now we have some idea of where to focus our search."

"Creeped out or not, I'd be willing to bet Vanessa would love to have one installed in your wedding band, or your neck! You Hardys get into way too much shit not to take some sort of precaution."

"Hey!"

"Biff, is this the road to your grandpa's farm that we're turning into?" Chet interrupted what was beginning to sound like a quarrel between the two.

"Yeah."

"Why are we coming here?" Joe asked.

"You'll see." Biff answered. Joe looked out the SUV's window.

Old man Hooper's farm had once been a thriving orchard, selling apples other produce to markets throughout the state. But after Biff's father died in a hunting accident, Old man Hooper went into a retirement of sorts, focusing on growing dogwood trees for local nurseries and landscapers. People rarely saw the old man, save for immediate family. As they turned onto the farm's gravel road, Joe saw rows and rows of dormant, snow covered dogwoods and apple trees. He imagined once spring arrived the white and pink blossoms would be a beautiful sight. Joe closed his eyes and said a silent prayer, that Frank would be with them to enjoy the natural spectacle too.

When they were within a few feet of the main house, they saw a man in the distance. He looked like he was carrying two bundles of firewood, with the ease of a man carrying an armful of pillows. The man was walking toward the house, and he apparently could not hear the SUV, the snow muffling the sound of the tires rolling over the road.

"You guys watch this." Biff said mischievously. When he laid down on the car's horn, the man started and dropped his load of wood. When he turned around to face the vehicle, the boys saw that it was Old man Hooper. The elderly man's eyes widened and he immediately hunched over, grabbing his back. Biff was laughing so hard he had tears in his eyes, but his companions were stunned.

"Not cool man!"

"What the hell is wrong with you?" But Biff continued to laugh as they exited the vehicle.

"I'm sorry Papa, I couldn't resist." He then sobered and tilted his head toward his friends. "They know." The elderly man nodded, and with the grace of someone half his age, stood upright, dropping his hands from his back.

"Guys, you remember my Papa, Alf?" The boys nodded, still beside themselves with embarrassment for their friend's idea of a prank.

"Papa, this is Joe Hardy, Phil Cohen and Chet Morton…"

"I remember them, Allen. That little pisser right there used to climb my trees whenever his mom came out here in the fall to buy a bushel." He said as he pointed to Joe. "Broke the limb off of one of my oldest trees." Joe flushed with guilt at the memory, but then the old man cracked a smile.

"It's good to see you boys. Now pick up this mess and come in the house, colder than a witch's tit on Halloween out here." He turned and led the way to the house while each of the boys picked up an arm full of firewood.

"That's not first-hand information is it?" Chet whispered to Biff, but the taller boy just rolled his eyes and chuckled.


	15. A Book's Worth of Revelations

Chapter 15: A Book's Worth of Revelations

Alf Hooper lit his old pipe and the smell of rich, sweetly cured tobacco filled the air. The smoke stung at Joe's eyes and throat, and he and the others began to cough.

"Sorry 'bout that. Allen, crack a window will you?"

"Yes sir." The crisp winter air felt like refreshing water to Joe's constricting throat.

"Those things will kill you, you know?" Phil asked as he fanned the fresh air toward his face.

"I know." The older man said quietly. Alf then leaned back from the old farm table. "So Allen's filled you boys in on the family pastime?"

"He hasn't gone into a lot of details, but we've got the gist of it, I guess." Joe replied.

"I have a feeling the "gist" is just the tip of the ice berg. And from what Allen told me last night, it's a miracle you boys are still alive." Alf stood and extinguished his pipe.

"Come on downstairs, I'll give you the grand tour." They followed Alf and Biff down to the farmhouse basement.

Where Joe had been expecting a damp, musty cellar, there was a cozy, old workshop feel to the lower level. An electric lathe and saw lined one side of the basement. In the corner there looked to be a wood burning brick stove and oven with an old fashioned bellow. Typical for a craftsman he supposed, until he looked at the rack on the back wall. A modified pool cue rack held wooden stakes in graduating widths and lengths. That must have been what the wood working tools were for. Beside it was a heavy duty combination gun cabinet. On the other wall there stood a wide, ornately carved book case, with various books, albums, papers and framed photographs. Both sides of the bookcase were flanked by two old fashioned wardrobes, their doors secured with combination locks. In the center of the room was a wide coffee table, surrounded by worn, but comfortable, mid century furniture.

Alf walked over to the bookcase and pulled a heavy, tattered leather album and a few books. He opened the album to its beginning. Joe, Phil and Chet leaned forward from their seats to get a better look. The first picture ran a chill down Joe's spin. It was a daguerreotype of a middle aged, white whiskered man, standing proudly like a hunter after a kill. Except the kill was another man. Even in the dark, aged pictured the skin was chalky white, and the texture looked rough, flaking. The most disturbing part of the picture was the stake in the middle of his chest.

"If you don't go on and burn the bastards after you kill them, they'll flake away and make a damn mess" explained the elderly man. "That was Abraham Houtkooper, back in 1840. Slaying was a proud tradition back in the old country," He flipped a page, a father and son were posing for another sepia toned picture, three vampiric bodies neatly fanned out at their feet. They continued through the album, Alf telling an interesting story about every other one.

"Now here is my grandfather, Augustijn Hooper. Folks called him Gus. He shortened the family name to Hooper when he immigrated here. Things started to change after that. With forensic science in its infancy, like fingerprinting, dental records and what not, the vampires had to clean up their own act. And with fewer blatantly obvious vampire attacks, the belief in their actual existence faded, out of sight, out of mind.

That made the tradition of slaying nearly obsolete. But every few years a clan of them would have to up and relocate, either because they wore out their welcome, or it was becoming apparent to the community they were living in that their members weren't aging." Alf turned another page, a small black and white photo that predated World War II.

"There's my daddy, Arnoud. And there's me and my baby brother Benjamin. First born son in the family gets the "A" name, in case you were wondering. We wound up nicknaming him Biff. He was the boxer in the family that Allen here got his moniker from. He put those fighting skills to good use until Korea. A well trained slayer can take a lot, but he's no match for a landmine." The old man pointed to the opposite page.

"And here's my son, Allen's dad Alfred. His mom and I called him Al. Marjorie had a fit when I told her I was going to train our boys. Made us wait until they were at least out of high school. He and my youngest son Benny got good enough to where I didn't go with them on hunts anymore. Then a few years back, a whole pack of the pissed off blood suckers got them cornered, tore them up, literally. Killed Al, and tore Benny's right leg and arm clean off his body. Only reason he survived was that he was fortified before the hunt."

"Fortified?" Phil asked.

"I'll get to that later." He sat back in the threadbare easy chair, a look of sorrow on his face. "As much as I miss my Marjorie, I was thankful that she had already gone to be with her Lord. What happened to Al and Benny would have killed her. Al's wife wouldn't talk to me for the longest time. So I "retired", but I took up a new pastime, deer hunting, or at least that was what I called it. I continued training Buddy since he'd worked so hard and put so much into it already. But I waited for Biff to come to me when he was ready, I didn't want to push him into something he might not want to do.

I lost my brother, I had to bury one son, and my other son would never have a normal life again. The whole point of being a slayer is to keep your family as well as others safe. But I couldn't do that anymore. And years of fortifying myself for hunts has left me, well, if I keep it up I might just outlive you boys."

"Papa…"

"I'm okay Allen." Alf sat up a little straighter in his chair and cleared his throat. He closed the album and opened another old book. The book resembled an old bible, with vellum-thin pages. There were different handwritings in Old German, then Dutch, and finally English on the pages, notes passed down from father to son, drawings to illustrate methods of taking down Vampires, disposing of them, and so on.

"This book is one of the oldest Hooper family artifacts. Everything we've learned about slaying throughout our generations, we've recorded in here. My granddad translated the Old German and Dutch for future generations. That's why some of the drawings repeat in this half of the book."

"Can you give us the Cliff Notes version?" Chet asked.

"The what?"

"Would you run over the basics with them, Papa?" Biff had read the book several times, but he knew they weren't working on a time table to allow the others to study it.

"Well, before you can hunt, you have to know your prey." He turned to the English part of the book, pointing to a hand drawn picture of a vampire. It didn't look anything like the modern caricature of the black caped vampire. There was a man and a woman, with arrows pointing to the eyes and teeth, with notes written to the side.

"There are three liquid substances that a vampire has. The first and most dangerous is their venom. It's excreted through a duct behind the fangs. The deeper the fangs protract, the easier it flows. If they're just feeding, they extend the fangs enough to break the skin and reach a vein or artery. Most shoot for the neck or wrist, a few freaky ones go for the femoral artery down here." Biff's grandfather indicated the area where the leg and hip joined. Joe's eyes widened with the recollection of the coroner's reports and photos.

"The venom serves two purposes: To change a mortal to a vampire, and to incapacitate or kill its victim. To turn a mortal, the blood stream has to be thoroughly saturated with the venom, but gradually to allow the heart and other organs to build up a tolerance. This can take two to three weeks, depending on the size and health of the victim. Once the body has taken all it can, mortal death will occur and the transformation will begin. Too much venom at once and it can kill. The contraindication for this is only one vampire can do the turning. If another vampire expresses its venom into the victim, something like an allergic reaction happens, death almost always occur, the permanent kind."

Joe felt like his nerves were strung tight, but he could feel Phil actually shaking beside him. He clapped a reassuring hand on Phil's shoulder. Chet was giving Old Man Hooper his full attention, it was obvious the way he was sitting on the edge of his seat.

"The next is their saliva. It can actually stop the bleeding and heals the wound it inflicts, but it's time consuming. Back in the old days vamps were careless, but now they don't want to cause panic and draw us slayers out by leaving their mark on a body. If they don't have the time, they'll make it look like an accident."

"Or a suicide?"

"Yes." Alf stood and unlocked one of the wardrobes. When he opened the doors, the shelves were chock full with small containers of a dark red liquid. He picked one up and brought it to the coffee table.

"Last, vampire blood. That's another reason vampires aren't exactly forthcoming with letting humans know of their existence. Their blood was highly prized by the ancient Romans and Greeks, like gladiators and generals. However, it became frowned upon, to the extent of heresy, to partake of it after the spread of Christianity throughout Europe. Christians were to partake of the holy blood of Christ, not the blood of an evil, unholy creature. Anyway, their blood has magical, strengthening properties. A small amount like this, just once, will give you strength the equivalent of a vampire's for at least twenty four hours. Sharpens your mind, your senses, and agility. Taken over time, years, it builds up in your system, to the point you only need to drink it once a year, if that."

"How do you collect it?" Chet asked.

"Well, finding a donor is a rarity. They've been known to develop relationships with humans, humans who wanted to stay human, the blood would help with the longevity, but those human and vampire things never work out. The only practical way is to kill it first, then bleed 'em before they start to flake."

"Why isn't the blood refrigerated, like our donated blood would?"

"What part of magical properties did you not understand?"

…..

Phil was gingerly running his fingers over a sharp, darkly varnished stake, examining the tight grain and the smooth finish.

"That's Betty. I've managed to hang on to her since forty six." Alf said proudly.

"What kind of wood is it?"

"Dogwood."

"I thought dogwood was a light colored wood?"

"It is, until you run through about fifty or so vampires." Phil immediately placed the stake back on the rack, wiping his hands on his jeans vigorously.

"Yep, stakes through the heart will get the job done every time, so will silver."

"Biff was telling us about that on the ride up." said Joe as he examined an arrow tip.

"If you can't penetrate their skin with something sharp made of silver, like a dagger, arrow or bullet, you can at least slow them down and put them in a world of hurt by touching silver to their flesh. Jewelry, chains. But if an intended victim is wearing something made of silver, they'll use their enchantments to talk them into taking it off." Phil paled and walked back over to the sofa to distract himself with one of the ancient books.

"Wait a minute. Silver bullets? I thought those were used to kill werewolves?" Chet chimed in.

"That's just in the movies, Chet." Joe answered.

"Well, no… You can kill a werewolf with a silver bullet, not that I would want to…"

"Whoa, hold on a minute! Are you trying to say werewolves actually exist too?" Joe asked in disbelief.

"I'm not trying to say anything, son. What I am saying is I wouldn't want to."

"So, if werewolves exist, why wouldn't you want to kill them?"

"Weres and vamps are mortal enemies, don't ask me why, could have started over a girl. But as the old proverb goes, the enemy of mine enemy is my friend." Alf finished placing several jars of the vampire blood in boxes for each of the boys to take home.

"You boys need to start fueling up, one jar every day. Don't try to double up, when you break off the door handle to the men's room, people are going to notice that something's up."

"Why do we need to start fortifying now? We don't even know where Frank is, or have a plan yet." Joe asked.

"Just because you survived the other night, doesn't mean you're safe. Your lives are that jackass's insurance policy. If Frank puts up too much of a protest, he could threaten to harm or kill one of you. You say he was once your friend, so he knows how to find you." He held up another of the bottles to Joe. "Give this one to your fiancé. Tell her to only take one teaspoon a day, not the whole bottle."

"Why doesn't she get a whole bottle a day like us?"

"Did ya notice there weren't any female member of my family in that album? It's not like we're a bunch of sexist assholes, but as taking the blood enhances you, it enhances a woman as well. They'll appear more attractive, they'll emit a powerfully strong pheromone, and they become a magnet for vamps and other supernatural creeps. I don't know about you, but I wouldn't want to put my sister or daughter in the path of a hungry, lust driven vampire. That's like parking an ice cream truck in front of an oncoming train."

"But if she's attacked, she won't be as strong…"

"She'll have an edge, her senses will be heightened enough to make her more aware of her surroundings. Tell her to raid her jewelry box for all the silver she can wear at one time." As Alf replaced the lock on the wardrobe door he added, "And you're gonna need to take a bunch of cold showers."

…..

While Biff's grandfather was taking a bathroom break, they poured over the books.

"I don't know about you guys, but I'm still overwhelmed. Its like the world has flipped on it's side. What else is out there?" Chet asked them.

"What I can't get over is you, Biff. You mean you've actually killed someone?" The words left Joe's mouth before he'd really thought the question through. "Oh man, I didn't mean it like …"

"I don't think you can classify an unnatural creature that kills innocent humans as a _someone_." he answered sharply. "Even you have a little blood on your hands in the name of self defense."

Phil suddenly closed the book he was reading and tossed it onto the table.

"None of this is going to do us a bit of good if we can't locate Frank. You heard what your grandfather said. What if he used some sort of hocus pocus on Frank and had him destroy the bracelet? Maybe they're not in HersherPark after all."

"Phil, knowing Frank like I do, I just have a gut feeling it's not destroyed. Even if he did take it off, he cares enough about you that I think he'd do his best to hold on to it." assured Joe. "I think HersherPark is a good starting point, Frank might have tried to leave us a clue if he woke up at some point."

"I'm not so worried about the bracelet itself, but the lack of a signal coming from it. I just wish the satellite images weren't blocked and the signal wasn't scrambled so we're not going in there blind."

"You boneheads rely way too much on your gadgets." Alf said as he clunked down the wooden steps. He opened a cardboard box sitting on the bookcase that was simply labeled "maps" and pulled out a folded, yellowing map. As he spread it out on the table the boys could see it was a topographical hiker's guide of HersherPark. It was dated from some time back in the fifties, the highway that ran parallel to the east side of the park was still a country road.

"But this map is so old."

"Roads change, the mountains, hills and creeks don't. And look here," He pointed to a square on the map, "the old Hersher estate. I'd wager that dilapidated mansion is where your vamps are calling home, sweet home."

Author's Note: I hope you didn't mind my long-winded version of Vampires 101. But I think laying things out here will help from having to stop and explain something in the middle of a scene in a future chapter.

Next chapter, we get to Frank, and that's when things start getting dark and disturbing


	16. Denial is a River in Egypt

Before you read: The following contains dubious and/or nonconsensual material. Reader discretion is advised.

Chapter 16: Denial is a River in Egypt

Frank finally woke from what had felt like a dreamless oblivion. How long had he been out? Was it morning yet?

He tried to open his eyes but they still felt so heavy. Frank heard foot falls, felt a dip in the mattress beside him, and then a warm breeze flutter across his face. It smelled spicy, a little musky. Only one person could be wearing a scent that could stir his arousal just by the smell. Phil was there. That was Phil's aftershave and cologne he was breathing in. He tried to edge his way closer to his lover, but couldn't get any further. He was suddenly aware enough to realize both of his arms were above his head. Frank twisted his wrists to feel around, something smooth and flexible had him tethered to what reminded him of a metal headboard.

We don't have a headboard, he thought to himself. As he was about to open his mouth to complain he felt kisses being pressed to his neck. Phil must want to try something new. He would have appreciated it if Phil had run this bondage idea by him first. He'd been kidnapped or held prisoner one too many times for this not to be an issue. But the feeling of those lips and tongue caressing his neck felt too good to stop Phil just yet. He'd play along for now, if he started to get uncomfortable, he was sure Phil would understand and stop.

Frank's eyes finally fluttered open, only to be met with nearly complete darkness. He could barley make out shapes and shadows. The room looked different. Wait, this wasn't his bedroom.

The kisses were moving up to his jaw line, and then followed down to his chin.

"Wha…where am…" the question was cut off by a cool, deep kiss. Phil must be chilly, Frank thought, as the hands that were tracing his ribs were cold too. Frank broke away from the kiss for a moment.

"Babe, why don't you turn up the heat if you're cold?"

"I'm fine." was the whispered response. Phil didn't sound like himself. The voice was familiar, so it wasn't a stranger's voice. Maybe Phil was catching a cold.

"You sound funny, not getting sick are you?"

"No, shhhh….." Two fingers were placed to his lips to silence him. "Open your mouth." Frank obeyed. "Now suck, get them wet." came the whispered command. Frank worked over the cool fingers with his tongue, the long digits warming with his touch. He could hear Phil moaning, Frank must have been putting on a good show. Frank ran his tongue between the fingers, the tip teasing the webbing in between. Phil moaned a little louder this time, and started to gently pump his fingers in and out of Frank's mouth. Saliva began to leak out of the corner of Frank's mouth, coating his lips, and he felt a cold trickle hit his chin. At last Phil removed his fingers, and teased Frank's nipples, the pink buds hardening at the cold wet touch. Phil blew lightly on the wet flesh, and the tingly sensation made Frank arch his back.

"Oh ah, ah!" Frank yelped, and then he heard a low chuckle, and felt a hand on his leg, moving it so that Frank bent his knee, then the other. Phil's hand ran along Frank's hardening shaft, and the brunette shivered and flinched at the ice cold touch. But the hand grabbed him firmly still, and started massaging and pumping as Frank's skittish cock gave in and started to fill again at the attention it was receiving.

The two slicked fingers brushed against his hole, pressing at the resisting muscle. Then, in one forceful move, they plunged in to the hilt.

Frank screamed, his hips lifting off the bed, trying to pull away from the stinging intrusion. But the hand that was on his cock let go and held down his hips with one hand. What the fuck was Phil thinking? Frank had only been "deflowered" a week ago, he hadn't been on the receiving end of penetrative sex since Christmas day. Why was Phil being so rough? This was definitely the line in the sand.

"No! Hur…hurts…gotta stop."

Phil pulled out and before he pushed in again, he covered Frank's mouth with his own, forcing his tongue in, choking off the next scream. This continued, despite Frank's slurred protests and writhing, even as a third finger was added, then a fourth. Frank was breathing hard as Phil continued to pump and scissor his cold wet fingers in and out.

Then, Phil was merciful at last. He changed the angle of his hand and glanced against Frank's prostate, more firm and sure the next time, sending jolts of electricity through Frank that momentarily made him forget the pain and burning going through is body. Phil kept up the sweet torment, rubbing, teasing, pulling out and pushing back in, hitting the sensitive nub just right.

Tears leaked from Frank's eyes, he couldn't reach his cock to release the intense pressure there, and no matter how he begged, Phil plainly ignored him.

"Please, ahh, please let me go or let me come! Gah!" He pleaded pitifully. Phil pulled his fingers out finally and Frank whimpered in relief. He was so sore, and yet he ached for release. Hands on his hips hoisted him up, wrapping his legs around a lean waist. The cool tip of Phil's dick brushed the back of his balls, sliding down and lining up at his entrance. Frank's breath hitched, and when only the tip of Phil's cock slowly entered him, he released a calming breath. Phil rocked slowly, inching his way in. When he was fully seated inside, his gentle thrusts speed up, with Frank pushing back in time. Frank was shaking, his cock was red and leaking pre-come onto his abdomen.

"I love you Frank. I've missed you so much." Frank heard Phil whisper in his ear. He latched on to the side of Frank's neck, kissing and sucking. Frank bucked upwards, his cock barely grazing Phil's body.

"Oh, G-d Phil! Yes! That feels so good. I love you so much Phillip!" and he finally came unraveled. As he sailed to his climax and tumbled down, Frank didn't hear the low, guttural sound that reverberated through his lover's chest. Phil bit down hard on Frank's neck as he fucked wildly, so hard Frank could hear the hollow clang of his head hitting the metal headboard. Frank screamed again, he knew for sure that he was tearing when he felt the tissue give and his body felt like it had been struck by a hot poker.

"Augh! Phil! What the fu… what's got into you?" Frank cried out. He tried to control his breathing, to tamp down the pain. As he took in gulps of air his vision cleared and his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Phil's unique smell was gone, instead there was the coppery smell of blood. Phil sank into Frank's neck one last time and shuddered, so hard Frank could feel the vibration through even the headboard. Phil let go of Frank, sliding out shortly afterward. He was nearly sobbing when he sat up. Frank's eyes widened in panic and heartbreak, he wasn't looking at Phil. He was looking into Eric's enraged, blood red eyes.

…..

Amy lazily flipped through her latest issue of Vogue, admiring the spring collection preview. She liked pretty dresses and pretty things. She'd come so far in this life, so much better than the one before. Occasionally she did grow nostalgic for those days, but only because of the three people who had made that life worth living. And it was in honor of their memories that she swore to live this life to the fullest.

The thumping and squeaking coming from the bedroom directly above hers was a mild distraction. She was used to her little brothers and sisters cavorting with each other throughout the house. There was no such thing as incest in vampire families, with the exception being the clan matriarch or patriarch. You were rarely ever blood kin to anyone in your clan, from your previous life. But that sort of debauchery was common among the newborns.

Like an infant learning to crawl or testing their parents' limits, newborn vampires liked to experiment and revel in their new lives. With no risk of pregnancy or disease and a freedom from life's entanglements, they are often overcome with the sense of empowerment.

Magnus had house rules, like any father. If you put the hole in the dry wall during rough sex, you have to be the one to go to Lowes before they close; he didn't renovate the nineteenth century mansion for his health. Lights out and all windows and doors locked by five in the morning, no excuses. If you don't make it home until one minute after five, dig a hidey hole and wait it out, that's why they invented dry cleaning. No playing with your food, especially in the house; the excessive screaming got on his nerves. The only mortals welcome were ones who had no where to go during the weeks of their inoculation and transformation.

That was one unique thing about their clan. Amy and Magnus had been drawn to each other out of loneliness and desperation. They each had devastating mortal lives. Becoming a vampire had made them believe they had something to offer those who were alone, felt their lives had hit rock bottom, or who wanted to escape life's unending pain and suffering.

It was a simple plan. They would go to town one night, use their exceptional hearing to listen to people. Befriend someone who was on the brink. Get to know them. When they had courted that poor soul to the point they were sure they would not be turned down, an invitation was extended. No one ever turned them down. Then the inoculations would begin. Sex was the most enjoyable and least painful way to receive their unique gift.

In this modern age of science and technology, where the world had gotten so much smaller, new methods had to be employed. Mortals don't file missing person reports for bodies they already know to be dead. It's easier for any remaining family and friends to find closure for a dead body that goes missing, than to be left wondering where their last-seen-alive loved one has gone. And there was less involvement by the authorities. It was a method that had worked very well for the last forty years.

It was a method that worked until she met Eric. Magnus had insisted he was still too lovelorn, too hopeful that Eric and his lover could reconcile someday. But Amy could feel Eric's pain so strongly. And then there were his eyes. They were _his_ eyes. Maybe Eric was some distant descendant. For the second time in this immortal life, her resolve had been weakened. Now she was paying the price. Leaving those boys alive in the alley had been a mistake. Pacifying Eric with that Hardy boy now was a mistake too. Magnus would not be happy with her for indulging the boy. They had left too many loose ends this time. But if Frank would stop resisting Eric, they might get out of this smelling like a rose.

…..

She could hear Eric leave the bedroom. In a huff too, if the way he slammed the bedroom door and was now stomping down the staircase was any indication.

"Sounds like you two were having fun." Amy said bitterly, without looking up from her magazine.

"Frank's still in love with him, he lied to me." Eric cried as he sat down in an armchair next to her.

"Of course he still loves that silly boy. He lied to you because you were about to kill his beloved and his friends. If that wasn't your first clue, the second one should have been how hard he resisted you when you tried to charm him into taking off that bracelet." Amy dog-eared a page in her magazine and set it down on the chaise lounger. She scooted closer to him, until their knees touched.

"I also told you not to charm him into having sex with you. You need to try to woo him again, win him over just enough so that he won't resent you. Do you know what happens when you breed a vampire who did not want to be one in the first place? Their newborn powers are strong enough to tear through an entire clan!"

There was silence for a while. Amy's sharp ears picked up on the sound of soft crying. She looked at the antique clock on the wall. It would be dawn in a few hours.

"I suggest you go in the kitchen and warm up some of that soup you bought him. Take it upstairs and try to make things right between you to. This has to work or Magnus will be very displeased with the mess we've made for nothing."

…..

In four months, Frank Hardy would be twenty four years old. Yet now here he lay, curled into the fetal position sobbing like a child. But he had no other way to deal with the pain, all his reserves were spent.

Frank had learned long ago not to fear death, but that did not change his strongly innate sense of self preservation. When Eric had sat up from his attack with that dark look of anger and betrayal on his face Frank just new he was about to die. Instead he unleashed Frank's right hand from the headboard, adjusted the length of the bonds that held his left, and exited the room in a flash, leaving Frank alone, in pain, and scared.

Blood. It was everywhere. His neck wasn't bleeding anymore but when he allowed his fingers to explore the wound, his hand returned a bloody mess. Sitting up hurt, so he raised up just enough to examine the lower half of his body. Frank was shocked at the amount of blood that was on the sheets. The blood loss left him feeling lightheaded, so he laid back down and turned over to his side to ease the pressure on his bottom. He bunched up the pillow until it was nearly folded in half to support his throbbing shoulder and neck.

His mind wandered to Joe, Phil, Chet, Biff… Oh, G-d, Biff… he'd died trying to save him. And was Phil okay? How badly had Eric hurt him, was he even alive? Chet, he was unconscious the last he remembered, was he okay too? And the tortured look on Joe's face, having to tell his little brother, his right hand, goodbye. What about Mom and Dad? How was Joe going to explain to them what had happened? He'd never see any of his family again. Frank's heart was breaking, he hurt for his family, his friends, his lover, and his self. To never feel Phil's warm arms around him, those plump soft lips kiss him, to be one with him, to tell him how much he loved him.

Instead he would spend whatever time he had left on this earth being raped, tortured, and imprisoned by this dark shadow of a man he once knew. Because of the pain in his heart, coupled with the wracking pains throughout his body, Frank simply could not stop the tears from flowing.

…..

That's how Eric found him when he opened the bedroom door, a tray of hot soup and a sandwich balanced on one hand. When he turned on a lamp Frank flinched. Amy was right, they…no, he had made such a mess of things. He set the tray on his bureau and went to Frank.

"Frank?" No answer.

"Frank, I… I brought some soup and a sandwich, just the kind you like. Tomato with oyster crackers, grilled cheese."

He walked over to the bed, sitting just south of Frank's feet. Until a few hours ago, he'd never seen Frank completely naked. What fooling around they had done when they had dated always involved leaving at least some article of clothing on. Frank was just shy that way. Maybe if he had not made Frank chose, him or the job, had been patient and waited things out, he could have been the one Frank finally gave his body, and his whole heart to. He really should have listened to Amy. But finally having Frank to himself once again, the urge, no, the need, to take what he wanted was overpowering.

Eric took in Frank's appearance again, his well toned and muscled body. Seeing those muscles flexed as he lay there was reawakening that primal desire to take him again. But his humanity reined him in when he finally saw the blood. That should have been the first thing he noticed, by smell alone, but the lingering odor of sex still wafted through the air.

He gently placed a hand on Frank's thigh. The brunette jerked his leg away, but then gasped and grunted in pain.

"Soup can wait, let's get you cleaned up." He stood and went to the headboard, unlatched the chain of the leather cuff. He thought for a moment.

"You know, I can take this off altogether if you'd just take off that bracelet." Frank didn't budge or acknowledge that Eric had spoken to him. "You'd have the run of the house. Go downstairs to the library, Magnus has all kinds of books in there. I remember how much you love to read."

"What do you want with me?" Frank asked quietly, his voice hoarse from screams and tears.

"I love you…"

"I heard you the first time you said that." Frank cut in, "What do you want with me?"

"I want for us to be together."

"We _were_ together. _I_ wouldn't change my job, _you_ left."

"Gran died."

"I'm sorry. I know she meant the world to you. But what does that have to do with…"

"I've finally lost _everyone_ that I ever loved or mattered to me." Eric sat back down at Frank's feet. "Then back in September I met Magnus and Amy. They acted like they cared, like I mattered. I was so lonely. Then they showed me that I didn't have to be lonely anymore. A solution if you will. No more loss, no death, pain, suffering. And freedom! It's amazing Frank!" He turned to look at Frank, who had gone quiet. He thought maybe he'd fallen asleep while he talked, but the boy's bloodshot eyes were still open, staring at the wall ahead.

"Eternity, Frank. We can be together forever. If you still want to investigate, you can. You would have the strength of five men, your senses would be more keen. You could take down the bad guys, leave them wrapped up in a tidy package for the cops. Even exact your own brand of justice on those who think they're untouchable, like that corporate criminal and his goons that almost killed you and Joe last year. I'd never have to worry about you again."

"I have no intention of becoming a vigilante, Eric. And yeah, I've had to do things in self defense, but I'm no murderer." That stung. Frank had turned his body enough to face Eric.

"By the way, what is the mainstay of your new diet Eric? Hmm?" Frank felt himself growing bold. It was stupid, really, because Eric could snap his neck like a twig. So what did he have to lose? Maybe Eric would do him a favor and then he'd no longer be destined to remain in this hellish existence. But he hadn't thought of the possible repercussion it could have when Eric narrowed his eyes. He didn't even look at Frank when he spoke again.

"Well, I've always had a taste for Kosher."

…..

Frank had refused Eric's assistance as he washed himself in the claw foot tub. But he had no choice but to accept the clothes Eric offered him. The taller man had gone so far as to buy Frank several articles and basic pieces in his own size. Eric had also insisted that he take off Phil's bracelet. Frank was reluctant. The silver chain would become the last thing he owned from his old life, if Eric got his way in the end.

"It's my birthstone, please Eric, I really like it."

"You've never liked jewelry."

"Eric, please." The puppy eyes, no one could ever resist those chocolate brown eyes when Frank cast that look their way. That must now include vampires as Eric rolled his eyes and finally agreed.

"I'll tell you what, take it off and put it in one of the drawers that I've designated for you in the dresser. I promise I won't touch it." Eric gave what he hoped was an unnoticeable sigh of relief when the chain was safely tucked away. Besides, once Frank was no longer mortal, he wouldn't be able to touch it ever again anyway.

Frank limped stiffly back to the bedroom, using the walls along the way for support. Eric had just finished changing the bed linens and was fluffing the pillows when he heard Frank reach the door.

"You should have called from the bathroom. I could have carried you back." Frank's jaw tightened. He wanted to say "I wouldn't be walking like this if you weren't a self bastard!" But he steadied himself. He had to, for Phil's sake. For everyone he cared for. It was one thing for someone to threaten him, but this wasn't an adversary he could simply outwit. Especially since Eric was too strong, and knew too much about his family and friends. He had to play along and not give Eric a reason to retaliate. At least until he could figure something out.

Escape was useless. Frank had tested a few doors that lined the hallway, they were bolted shut, not just above the knob, but there must have been a mechanism inside the heavy doors that pushed bolts to on all four sides of the door. If they were using that kind of reinforcement on the bedroom doors, he could only imagine what the exterior doors were like. There had been a window in the bathroom. He'd tested that too, it was bullet proof glass, with security bars. He noticed there where heavy metal shutters on either side of the window. At first he thought it was odd, shutters on the inside of a house. Right, vampires. Have to keep all daylight out. No wonder Eric said Frank could have the run of the house. No one was getting in, and no one was getting out.

"I can manage." Frank said tightly as he started for the bed. Eric was suddenly by his side and scooped him up bridal style. He deposited Frank gently on the bed, but Frank still hissed at the pressure on his bottom. Eric set the tray of re-warmed food on Frank's lap.

"Thank you." Frank said. He tried to eat, but he just had no appetite. "Not hungry."

"Yes you are, I could hear your stomach rumbling in the hall." Eric admonished, "You need to eat, get some color back in your cheeks." Frank tried to take another spoonful, but his stomach began to protest. The pain was starting to make him nauseous.

"Eric, I just can't. I think I need to lie down."

"You still hurting?" Frank raised an eyebrow, as if to say "Are you kidding?" He handed Eric the tray and slid down under the covers. He was exhausted and didn't know how much longer he could keep his eyes open.

"I'm sorry I don't have anything for the pain, aspirin doesn't do us much good." Frank shrugged and rolled over, facing the wall, whose wallpapered pattern he was starting to memorize.

Eric flashed out of the room with the tray, and returned just as quickly. He turned out the lights and crawled in beside Frank. The brunette inched away to the edge of the bed. Eric followed and hooked his chin over Frank's shoulder.

"I know how to make it better." he whispered. Frank shrugged his shoulder away, but Eric began to run his cold hand up and down Frank's side and leg.

"I don't think that's a good idea right now Eric."

"Oh, no, not that." He pressed a kiss to Frank's cheek. "I promise. I'm going to make the pain go away. You don't even have to move."

Before Frank could say a word he felt the elastic waist of his pajama pants around his ankles. Eric flipped himself so that he was almost upside down in the bed and his cold fingers separated Frank's cheeks. Frank started to cry out from the pain, but choked when he felt an ice cold tongue probing him. Eric soothed and massaged Frank's entrance, an excess of saliva slid down behind his leg, leaving a numbing trail in its wake. A sigh of relief escaped him, and Frank's face burned in humiliation. Damn Eric for hurting him like this, and then make him feel better. Damn his own body for betraying him. He didn't want Eric to have the satisfaction of knowing this was helping. He didn't even want Eric down there, period, ever again.

Phil was the first person he had ever wanted to give his body to, the only person. Maybe, if he just closed his eyes, and bit his tongue, he could get through this. On the other side of his eyelids he could see Phil's face, smiling mischievously as he stroked Frank to an orgasm. They were in the den, it was after work, and the sun was sending its last rays of orange light through the windows. He could feel Phil's soft hair under his fingertips. He heard his lover moan as he gripped the curls. Frank brought Phil's lips to his, placed love bites to his full bottom lip. Phil's motions sped up, he pulled away and looked at Frank. The light hit his eyes just right, the notes of honey in those hazel irises flaring. The lower part of his belly began to tighten, and then his world exploded in pleasure.

Frank bit down hard on his pillow. Damn it! Eric popped out from under the covers, a delighted look of triumph on his face. He pulled Frank to him, curling his body around the brunette's.

"I thought you'd like that." He said as he kissed the back of Frank's neck.

Frank shut his eyes tightly. How was it possible that he still had any tears left in him?

_I'm sorry Phil. So, so sorry._

Author's Note:

Aww My Gawd Ya'll! Please don't kill me.


	17. I Wish That My Lips Could Build A Castle

Before you read: The following contains dubious and/or nonconsensual material. Reader discretion is advised.

Chapter 17: I Wish That My Lips Could Build a Castle

What were the chances that vampires kept multi purpose saline in their bathroom? The answer: None. Frank rubbed his eyes to work away the blurriness. Maybe he could ask Eric to pick some up.

Frank had awakened at about eleven o'clock the next morning. He'd have never known if it weren't for the digital clock on Eric's nightstand. The whole house was just as dark as it had been the night before. Frank tried to pry his fingers into the seam between the shutter doors, but they were latched shut too.

High tech vampires, well, that was a new one. Frank descended the grand staircase, and arrived in a spacious foyer with black and white marble tiles. He tested the wide, double front doors, and just as he had suspected, it was secured even more than the interior doors. He noticed a keypad by the door. Maybe he could crack the security code. He was about to touch the keypad when a voice stopped him.

"Don't even bother. It's a one hundred digit binary sequence. You'll be cutting your first fang before you figure out half of it." Frank turned around sharply. The teenager who had been in the alley was standing at the foot of the staircase. Despite the violence he displayed the other night, the boy before Frank now seemed almost chipper. He had dark, sandy blonde hair, gold wire-rimmed glasses, and freckles sprinkled across his cheeks and nose. He looked like he may have been fifteen, sixteen years old at the most.

"What are you doing up?" Frank asked carefully. Eric had mentioned that they would all be asleep until sunset.

"I could ask you the same thing." Ezekiel countered, but then he brightened.

"Are you hungry?"

"Er, are you?" Frank backed away. Ezekiel laughed.

"You don't have to worry about me making lunch out of you. Eric's already left his mark. You're his territory. Besides, I'm kind of squeamish. C'mon to the kitchen and let's get something. If I have to keep hearing your stomach growl I'm going to scream."

They walked into the large kitchen. Frank imagined that when the house was in its prime, this room probably stayed busy with meal preparations and fancy parties. Ezekiel opened the refrigerator door and considered his options.

"Let's see, A, O, AB… Oh! AB negative! Sweet!" He picked up a bag of donated blood and placed it in the microwave oven for twenty seconds. Frank continued to watch in morbid fascination as the young vamp pulled a straw out of a drawer, stuck it into the bag and began to drink, like a kid drinking from a juice box.

Frank thought he was going to be sick. He turned away and started rummaging through the cabinets.

"Your stuff is in the one beside the icebox, and there are some TV dinners in the freezer." Ezekiel said from the table. Frank nodded and explored the offerings. He picked out a box of oyster crackers, figuring it was bland enough to settle his stomach. He checked the fridge, and sure enough, Eric had stocked it with two percent milk, Ginger Ale, soda, and Heineken, all his favorite beverages.

He settled across from Ezekiel, popping a few crackers in his mouth. An awkward silence followed. Thankfully the boy spoke first.

"So, I imagine you've got a million questions." Ezekiel began.

"Well, yeah. But I'd have no idea where to begin." Honestly, Frank didn't want to hang around long enough to learn anything. He just wanted out.

"Okay, um, how old are you?" Frank asked.

"One hundred sixty-five this November."  
"Why did you become a vampire?" At that the youth's face fell.

"The Civil War was still going strong, and my Mama and I were "station masters", helping a group of agents with the Underground Railroad. And even though we lived above the Mason-Dixon line, my stepfather was fighting for the Confederacy. So you can imagine how displeased he was when he had risked life and limb to cross enemy lines on his way home on furlough, only to find his own wife was harboring slaves.

He got drunk one night, the same night we were expecting a group of refugee slaves. He put up a big fuss when Mama let them in our house. She tried to keep him distracted while I took over leading them down to the cellar. There they would wait it out until the "conductors" could come to our back door. When I got back upstairs, he was beating Mama. I tried to break it up, but he knocked me out of the way. He picked up a poker from the hearth, and started hitting her. I got a piece of firewood and hit him with it. Well, that only pissed him off. He lashed out, caught me in the neck with the poker, hit my carotid, and I went down. He went back to beating Mama.

I swear, I thought I was hallucinating. But he suddenly flew up against the wall, knocking down Mama's good dishes. I saw Amy standing there, holding him up against the wall, and then, Crack! He was dead. She went over to Mama, and Mama kept saying "Save him Amy. I know you can, save him." Maybe she knew Amy was a vampire, it sure explained why she was so good at guiding and protecting the refugees.

Mama died in her arms. She came over to me and started licking my neck, then she bit her own arm and put it to my mouth, told me to drink. I wasn't in any condition to protest. When I was stable, Amy picked me up and led the slaves to the next station. Then she took me up to Canada, that's where Magnus and the rest of the family were staying back then. I agreed to join them. And after a few weeks, she and I came back down to the States to continue our work. I was the brains, she was the brawn."

"Whoa." That's all Frank could say. He was so stunned by Ezekiel's story he didn't know what else to say next.

"I think that's why I'm not a big fan of the hunting parties. Not too crazy about killing people. Oh man, when the Red Cross started up their blood banks last century, it was like the heavens had opened up for me!"

"Sick people need that blood."

"Chillax, I only eat maybe once a week now. See?" Ezekiel tossed the emptied bag to the trash bin, its chrome lid rotated several times after the impact. "Yes! Two points!" the teen whooped, then he faced Frank.

"I like to think I've got a little good karma built up. Maybe one of those donors was the great grandchild of someone Amy and I saved."

"You didn't feed on any of the slaves?"

"Oh no!" Ezekiel shook his head. "Amy was very serious about them reaching safety. We'd go after the bounty hunters, or some rogue soldier who'd had the misfortune of attacking a family while the fathers and sons were on the front lines. Yeah, she's badass."

"Ezekiel! Such language!" A feminine voice called into the room.

"No Amy, I didn't mean anything bad by it! Badass is a good thing! Right Frank?" the teen looked between Amy and Frank. Frank did not want to cross any of these vampires, the more neutral he remained, the safer he felt. But maybe if he befriended the young vampire, he could have an ally for later.

"It's the new slang." He said quietly, "It means you're…"

"I'm aware of the current lexicon. But Ezekiel was raised better than that." Ezekiel humbly bowed his head.

"Sorry Amy."

"Why don't you head back to bed? Eric said something about running to WalMart sometime after midnight." At that the youth brightened, clapping his hands excitedly.

"Oooh! I love WalMart after midnight! It's so entertaining!" Ezekiel hopped up from the table and gave Amy a peck on the cheek as he passed her. She smiled, the first sincere smile Frank had seen on her face since he'd met her.

Amy noticed Frank was still looking at her after Ezekiel had gone back upstairs.

"If you're looking for my back story it'll have to wait. I'm going back up. Make sure you clean up after yourself, I don't want to feel any crumbs on my feet when I walk in here." She cinched the belt on her dressing gown a little tighter and left the kitchen.

…..

"Toilet paper, saline, razors…"

"You can use my old electric one."

"Those things don't get as close."

"Next item, Frank?" Eric wasn't writing any of this down, but he swore he had an excellent memory.

"I don't know. Some gum would be nice." Eric nodded, committing the list to memory. He crawled up the bed, covering Frank with his own body as he went. Frank stiffened while Eric began to unbutton his pajama top.

This wasn't the sort of thing Frank normally wore to bed, but the extra layers helped to fend off the chill in the air, due mostly to the company he was kept. Out of consideration for Frank, the vampires had actually turned on their electric heat pump, keeping it a balmy sixty-seven degrees. Which would have been fine, _in July_, but the New Year had brought with it temperatures in the teens and twenties, and three feet of snow. Even with the vampire's modern renovations to the mansion, the building just didn't hold the heat well at all. And the majestic fireplaces were just for show, no firewood to be found.

While Eric had slept the day away Frank had gathered several books from the library and thrown an extra quilt on the bed from the linen closet. Despite the chill in the room, Eric had kicked off his half of the covers. Seriously? Vampires can get too hot? But Frank let it be for now, hunkered under the heavy covers and read until his eyes grew too blurry and tired to read anymore.

"What is with all the layers?" Eric asked, "You never used to be hot natured."

"I don't think you realize it, but it's like lying next to a life-sized popsicle with you." Frank retorted. Eric looked like he was pondering something, then he smiled and re-buttoned Frank's pajama top.

"I'll see if I can remedy that."

"Yeah, well, add a hot water bottle to your shopping list." Frank groused.

There was a knock at the door. Eric sat back from Frank's body and with an exasperated sigh.

"What _Zeke_?" the ginger vampire called.

"It's Ezekiel!" the boy hollered back, "Are you ready to go? I want to check out electronics before second shift gets off, they don't have anyone with a key or running the register back there when third clocks in!"

"What's so important in electronic Ezekiel?" Frank asked from the bed as Eric opened the bedroom door.

"Call of Duty, fifty percent off after Christmas Sale still going on until the end of the week!" Ezekiel hopped from foot to foot nervously.

"Call of Duty? Oh man, that's one of my favorites!" Eric gave Frank a funny look, but the brunette shrugged with a sheepish grin on his face. "I got into gaming with the guys after you went your merry way. Besides, I'm bored here while you guys hibernate all day."

"That's because you still have your nights and days mixed up. You'll get used to it eventually."

"Oh, c'mon Eric! I don't have anyone to game with, and all the rest of you newborns can think about is sex, sex, sex! Lemme spend some quality nerd time with him before he's fully turned and becomes a horny bastard like the rest of you!"

"Ezekieeeel!" Amy's voice could be heard faintly calling from downstairs.

"Sorry!" Then Ezekiel looked back into the bedroom. "See you downstairs."

…..

"So you get babysitting duty tonight." It wasn't a question, but Frank did try to make light conversation as Amy passed through the kitchen. She got a broom and dust pan out of the closet and placed them beside the trash bin.

"For when you're done." Amy motioned toward the cleaning items. "I could still feel salt from those crackers when I came in here earlier."

"Yes Ma'am." Frank said quietly. When his microwaveable dinner was done cooking, he tried to find forks and spoons, but all he could find in the drawer were straws and plastic sporks." As if she could anticipate the next question, Amy told him:

"Just incase you were looking for something use to kill yourself, Eric took precautions. Why do you think he won't buy your razors?" Frank didn't say anything. Honestly, he had considered ending it all while he had spent a lonely couple of hours earlier crying his eyes out and feeling sorry for his self. But then he also had to consider the possible backlash it could have on his family if Eric lost control again.

"And I don't know why you're trying to be so chummy with Ezekiel…"

"Just trying to be nice…" But Amy was in his face in a flash, her dark brown eyes suddenly red.

"He's a good kid, don't betray him. I swear, if you hurt him, vampire or not, I'll snap your skinny neck." Then she was gone.

…..

Frank poked his head into the sitting room. It was elegantly decorated to compliment the period of the mansion's architecture. Amy was sitting on her chaise lounge, feet curled under her, reading a magazine. Frank cleared his throat to make his presence known.

"I already know you're there, and you're nervous, I can hear your heart racing like a little rabbit." She looked up from her magazine. "But I can't read minds. So what's on yours?"

"I…I want to apologize for earlier."

"You've done nothing wrong, yet."

"I just feel like you and I have gotten off on the wrong foot."

"You can't win over everyone with that boyish charm of yours, Frank." She folded a corner in the magazine and placed it on a nearby table. "I know you don't love Eric, not like you do that Phillip Cohen. But I can't bear to see his heart breaking so."

"Eric's a grown man. That's just part of life." Frank said as he took a seat on the camel-back sofa across from the chaise lounge.

"I know first hand about life's disappointments, and heartbreaks, I've lived them and then some. You're fortunate to live in an age where life is a little fairer. Everyman and woman born in this country today have the same chances and opportunities to obtain the life they want. If they can't afford it, they can work hard to earn it. They have a choice. Can you imagine living in a place, a time, when you have no choices? No freedom. Or worse, to have freedom, then having it and everything you've ever known taken away?

I was a princess! Not your fairytale sort. But my father was a tribal chieftain, and I was his only daughter. I ran and hunted the plains of our lands side by side with the other youths in our tribe. I was betrothed to handsome young warrior, and we had our whole future ahead of us.

Then one day, those white devils with their beards came, with their muskets and canons and chains. A rival tribe closer to the coast had sold us out to them, joined their forces and invaded our village in the dead of night. I saw my father die before my eyes. Those of us who weren't killed in the attack were gathered up, clapped in irons, and marched for miles and miles. Of almost a thousand of us and members of another tribe that boarded that boat, only a quarter of us made it here. Some were sold in Jamaica to sugar plantations, most died on the voyage."

"I'm sorry." Frank said weakly. Amy crossed her arms, curling her legs closer to her body.

"What happened then?" the brunette urged.

"I hopped on the back of a unicorn and flew into the sunset! What do you think happened? I was sold, separated from my mother and sent miles and miles away to a tobacco farm in Virginia. I lived in a small, smelly, dirt-floor cabin with twenty other slaves. It was winter when I arrived and I thought I was going to die! I'd never experienced cold weather, snow and ice. I barely had clothes to cover my back. Most of the women in my cabin were kind, but it was dog-eat-dog until I learned to stand up for myself.

My "masters" took away my name too. "Ameyo", it sounds so pretty spoken in my mother tongue. It was a name befitting a chieftain's daughter. But on English ears it sounded too much like "Amy", so the name stuck.

Just as I was getting used to the winter work around the farm, spring came. It was time to plant the tobacco. We topped the blooms in early summer, and in the hottest part of the season, began pulling the leaves. I'd never been so sick in my life. I'd ignored one of the elder women's instructions and pulled my sleeves up while I worked, but that sticky gum got on my skin, and the nicotine seeped into my bloodstream. It was horrible.

Later that fall, after the harvest, I received word that my betrothed, by now he was called Henry, had found favor in his master's son, Benjamin. He had agreed to buy me and bring me to their plantation so we could be married. Well, not legally married, there was no marriage for us slaves. But in the eyes of the spirits we worshiped, it was the best we could manage. We weren't a love match, but I was grateful for his protection and devotion.

Before we were married a year, our son was born, we called him little Harry. About the time he could walk, Benjamin's wife bore a son as well, but she was very ill afterward, I was asked to come into the home to wet nurse the child. The tiny little thing continued to thrive, but his mother died. Benjamin mourned her for over a year. I was allowed to stay and work in the house, as a nanny for his child. I was even allowed to bring little Harry, they played together in the nursery.

Considering my lot in life, things were looking good. House slaves were treated much better than the ones who worked the in the fields. Then Henry died, and I might as well have died with him, he was my last tie to my life before. But I had our child to live for, so I kept going.

That winter Benjamin's father took most of the family to winter in Charles Towne, leaving his son to oversee the plantation. On those cold winter nights it was just he and I and our boys. We grew close. We talked about our deceased spouses, how much we missed them. He asked me about my life before, what it was like. No one had ever asked me that before. He started teaching me how to read and write. We fell in love. And after the boys would go to bed at night… you get the idea.

When his father came back in March, he not only brought the family back, but a potential bride for Benjamin. But what else could he do? Benjamin was young enough to marry again, and he did. I continued to work in the house, but his new bride didn't care for me very much. Benjamin was always kind to me, even in our roles as master and slave he was cordial. But, oh, when I started showing, she began these petty little slights toward me, just for spite. Dropping a soup tureen as I handed it to her, claiming I was clumsy, or spilt it on her new dress intentionally. Blaming me for things I didn't do. But she didn't stop there.

Of course no one knew who the father of my child was, for all they knew or cared it could have been one of the other slaves. But when my brief confinement was over, I came back to work in the house. She invited me to bring the baby, Alvin, to the house for a visit. And when she saw his eyes, his bright green eyes, she knew it was Benjamin's child. I then found myself out of the house and back in the field. Harry and Alvin were watched by one of the elderly slave women along with the other children.

I never knew how long someone could hold a grudge, or have that much jealousy in their hearts, until three years later. We came out of the fields to hear the babies crying and the found the old woman half beaten, a huge lump on her poor face. One of foremen had come by and taken all the children who were old enough to walk. She had tried to stop him, but he beat her for speaking out. My boys were gone. To be sold off with the others. I ran to the big house, but Benjamin wasn't home, he'd been sent away days before to buy supplies. Instead she came to the door, smug, looking down her pointy nose at me. She said no slave was going to bring shame on her family by having the same colored eyes as their master, people would talk.

I lost it, I screamed and yelled every obscenity in English and my mother tongue I'd ever heard. That only got me one thing, a lashing. Only reason it ended was because the old master ran out there, saying I was too good a worker to waste. While I was recovering all I could think about was how not that long ago, I had been so happy, looking into his eyes when we talked, when we made love, looking into my son's eyes when I nursed him.

That bitch died childless the next spring. But Benjamin fell ill too. He asked for me. I came out of the fields to take care of him. I took care of him for three months, and as he lay dying, he apologized, begged me to forgive him for what happened to Harry and Alvin. He said he'd wished he'd been there to stop it. He had tried to find them when he came back, but in those days they didn't record the sale of slaves by name, just their gender and age. They were untraceable."

"My G-d." Frank said to himself, having to clear his throat and sniff hard to hold the tears of sympathy at bay. Amy's eyes were dry. After nearly four hundred years, she didn't have any tears left to cry over that part of her past.

"After they buried Benjamin, the old man had to re-arrange things for his grandson's future. He had enough money to send him to England for his schooling, but he decided the plantation was getting to be too much of a responsibility with no son or son-in-law to help him in his old age. He sold off nearly half the acreage, which meant he only needed half the slaves. I was sold again.

I felt like I had been sent to hell. My new master was a drunk, a glutton, he gambled, and was an all around son of a bitch. He beat his poor pregnant wife, he beat his slaves with little to no provocation, and he couldn't keep his hands to his self. I was put to work in the kitchen. The bastard would come in there, saying he was looking for something to eat. He wasn't. Instead he grabbed my arm and forced it behind my back, forced me over the table and raped me. All while his wife had been taken to her bed because of a difficult pregnancy.

My mistress gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. But he was incensed, it was their third daughter in a row. I was finishing up in the kitchen one night when I heard a scuffle. I thought my mistress was sick, but when I checked on her, the bastard was fucking her. She had only had the child three days before. You could smell the drink on him. And he was choking her! He finally stopped, when I flattened his head with skillet. We both panicked, I tried to tend to my mistress, but she told me to run, that if anyone found out what had happened I would be hung, no questions asked.

So I ran out into the night. I never heard hounds chase me, never heard the thunder of hooves in pursuit, I just ran. I stayed in the woods for days. I had learned enough from the elders on the other plantation to know what to eat, what not too. Then one night, I met him. Magnus Harladson, my knight in shining armor. Our paths crossed in the woods I was hiding in. He said he was hunting. Of course I didn't believe him, white men do a lot of stupid things but they don't hunt at night. He saw the condition I was in, and told me he could offer me a hot meal. In a weak moment I agreed.

Magnus was different from the other men I'd ever met, even Benjamin. In Benjamin's eyes I was still a slave. Magnus regarded me as just another human being. Then he told me about his life, how he'd traveled the world for years. He had been betrayed by his countrymen, like I had. His family had been slaughtered while he had been at sea. Life had beaten him as low as a human can get. But he'd rallied back. His mission was to help those in need, to offer them a new life, _freedom_. I was in.

It wasn't until my inoculation was nearly complete that I learned his countrymen were Norsemen, and he'd been a raider commissioned by his lord in search of gold and treasure. His wife and children had been killed when the lord suspected Magnus of not being forthcoming with all the bounty.

When I transformed, when I'd been given my new life, I swore on Benjamin's grave and on the lives of my lost sons that I would rise up, live a better life.

We traveled the world after that. We were in Europe during the revolution here, India when the English took over there. Our family grew. I was never too concerned with breeding my own children, I felt like my heart belonged to Harry and Alvin. When our numbers became too many, they would break off into their own branch, but still stay in touch. We were in Canada when I first found out about the Underground Railroad. That is one of the few times in my history with Magnus that we were apart for an extended period of time. Of course, little Ezekiel told you all about that."

"So are you considered, Ezekiel's "mother"?"

"In the eyes of vampires, yes, I am Ezekiel's mother. But I only ask Ezekiel and Eric to call me sister, I call them brother. Like I said, my heart still belongs to my little boys."

"You're Eric's mother?"

"Yes, it was his eyes that drew me to him. Magnus and I were at Pasquale's. Eric was drowning his sorrows in drink. When he looked up, I saw them. Benjamin's eyes, Alvin's eyes, those same green eyes. Eric even reminds me of Benjamin in the way he looks, the way he walks, even the color of his hair. He told me about his life, so much pain. He talked about you.

Another weak moment I suppose, but I offered him our gift. Magnus argued with me, and we don't argue that often, but he was adamant about this, he did not want Eric a part of our family. He felt Eric wasn't has down and on the brink as he let on, that he just wanted a quick fix for the pain. But all I saw was my son's green eyes, and Benjamin, begging me to forgive him. You know, I never forgave him, he died before I could bring myself to do it."

"So you felt by taking Eric in and changing him, you were righting all the wrongs life had dealt you and those you lost."

"It sounds so contrite when you put it that way. But yes, I felt like if I could make Eric happy, in a sense I was making all those I had lost happy too. But you became all Eric could think about, even in his new life. He was becoming unstable, taking stupid risks and could possibly destroy everything Magnus and I have maintained. Then Magnus gave Eric an ultimatum, either forget about you and get on with his life, turn you and have you join us, or Magnus was going to dispose of you his self. But Eric is still a young vampire, I don't think Magnus realized that killing you would mean his own demise as well. Rage is a mighty drug. Remember that."

"So by kidnapping me, in a sense, you're justifying the end with the means. I turn into a vampire, Eric is happy, Magnus is happy, and the family unit stays intact."

"You're even smarter than Eric said."

…..

After Eric and Ezekiel's return from WalMart, the younger vampire had been all a twitter about his new game.

"I've got a second game controller and headset, wanna join me?" Ezekiel asked, eyes twinkling with excitement.

"He's going to have to pass for now, we're going to spend some quality time together." Eric said smoothly. Ezekiel deflated, disappointment evident on his face.

"I… I guess I'll have to take a raincheck then, eh Ezekiel?" Frank stammered.

He did not want to have sex with Eric again. He sat on the edge of the bed as Eric was fumbling around in the bathroom. His knees shook nervously as he raked his fingers through his hair. _What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? Come on Frank, think! He nearly ripped you in half last time because you called out Phil's name. He's jealous. Jealous of Phil. Jealous that Phil was the one you gave your virginity too. That he wasn't your first… Wait a minute…_

"Oh Frank, come on in!" Eric called from the bathroom. Frank walked on rubbery legs to the bathroom door.

The electric lights were out, but in their place, small, battery operated votives were scattered here and there. The oversize claw foot tub was filled with a scented bubble bath, not a scent that Frank found appealing, but at least it was nothing that would remind him of Phil. Also in the tub, was Eric. His hair was already damp from the steam and humidity in the room, but Frank could at least appreciate the welcome warmth the bathroom offered.

"What's all this?" Frank asked, afraid he already knew the answer.

"This is one solution to our temperature problem. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't been fantasizing about bathtub sex."

"Oh."

"C'mon and get undressed and join me. The water's fine." Eric invited.

"Alright, I'll just go and…"

"Uh uh, right here. I wanna watch."

Frank wanted nothing more than to get on his knees and beg Eric not to make him get in that tub. To never touch him, just leave him alone.

_Think of Phil, think of Joe, think of Mom, Dad, your friends. Remember your plan from the bedroom. _

Frank took a few slow breaths, closed his eyes and tried not to think about Eric's hungry eyes on him as he removed his sweatshirt, his jeans, underwear… Eric was licking his lips, the black of his eyes already blown and his hand was moving suspiciously under the water. Frank entered the side of the tub opposite Eric, but the taller vampire remedied that, sloshing water as he grabbed Frank's waist and turned him, so that his back was to Eric's front, leaning back, his head resting against Eric's chest. Frank could feel Eric's erection pressing into the small of his back, yet his body did feel warmer in the hot water.

Eric reached around and started stroking Frank's cock, with one hand. The other was lazily teasing one of Frank's nipples, and his lips brushed Frank's neck, just behind his ear, moving down toward his shoulder. Frank stiffened when Eric's mouth reached the area he had pierced with his teeth the night before.

"Shh… I'm not going to do that tonight, too soon." True to his word, he gently nipped and sucked along the pale neck, but did not allow his teeth to touch Frank. The brunette gripped the sides of the tub, battling his need to keep his wits about his, while his body begged his brain to give in to the pleasure. His body won momentarily when he moaned, long and low. Eric almost purred. He shifted Frank higher, until his cheek could brush Frank's. He pulled the other boy's legs apart, hooking each one on the other side of his knees. Eric reached further down and brushed a finger against Frank's sphincter. Frank's eyes snapped open. _Now, now, now!_

"Eric, stop, wait! I want to talk to you about something!" Eric whined, but he released Frank. Frank turned around in the water, backed away, but then thought better of it, and moved closer. He loosely wrapped his arms around Eric's neck, but was far enough away that he could still look Eric in the eye.

"I think we should wait."

"Wait? No, I don't have that kind of…"

"No, I mean wait before we have sex again, at least with you inside me."

"I'll be gentle."

"No, it's not fair for you to be this strong, and gorgeous, and have to hold back for this weak human body."

"Frank…"

"No, I want us to wait. Please Eric? I want the first time we get to really make love, with no holding back for either of us, to be after I'm turned. That way I can really enjoy it without being scared of hurting, and you don't have to worry about accidentally hurting me. Think about how special it will be." Frank placed his hand on Eric's cheek, and the ginger leaned into the touch. Frank placed a kiss on Eric's cool cheek, then brushed his lips against Eric's ear.

"That doesn't mean we can't find ways to get our rocks off between now and then." Eric shivered as Frank whispered in his ear. "Can you climb out of this boat and sit on the edge?" Eric nodded shakily and scrambled to comply. Frank inhaled slowly to keep the bile from his stomach rising. He ran his now pruny fingers along Eric's cooling thighs. He scooted closer and ran his tongue experimentally along Eric's shaft. _I can do this, just breathe, I can do this!_

His lips closed over Eric's head, and teased the slit with his tongue.

"Fr..Frank…" The vampire carded his fingers through the brown strands and squeezed

"Umph!" Frank began to protest, but kept going. He went down, letting the head touch the back of his throat and he hummed. Eric let out with an animalistic yowl, pushing his hips forward. Frank tried not to choke. He looked up at Eric, catching his eye and holding his gaze as he pulled back and went even deeper, his air momentarily cut off. Eric began to thrust each time Frank took him. _Keep going! He has to be getting there soon!_

Frank started getting dizzy, but he let Eric take over, fucking into his mouth harder, deeper. The brunette tried to dig his fingers into Eric thighs, subtly trying to get his attention, even slapping on his legs, but Eric was in his own world of lust and pleasure. Frank gave up as lights started to flash behind his eyelids, static filled his ears and he drifted into darkness.

He never knew when Eric came. Didn't even feel it when Eric let go of his hair and he slipped under the luke-warm water. He didn't know a thing until he opened his eyes and Eric was hovering over him. He coughed and sputtered, felt himself being rolled onto his side, a firm hand clapping his back. Finally he was taking in air, deep breathes and Eric rolled him back. As his vision cleared and his hearing returned he realized Eric was crying, calling his name.

"Frank! Holy sh… Oh my G-d Frank! Please be okay, please. Look at me Frank!"

"Eric?" he choked out. Eric pulled Frank up and embraced him, cradling the back of his head as he sobbed.

"Oh thank G-d! You're okay. Thank you!" Frank wrapped his arms around Eric, burrowing his face in the vampire's shoulder.

"Frank, you're right. I… I guess I just lose control. We'll do it your way, Okay?"

Author's Note:

Yeah, long chapter.


	18. Send Out Succor

Before you read: The following contains dubious and/or nonconsensual material. Reader discretion is advised.

Chapter 18: Send Out Succor

If Frank had to guess, it was Saturday. That meant he'd been a prisoner in this once stately mansion for nearly a week. Frank rummaged through his drawer, and then shuffled to the bathroom to take care of his human needs. As he was washing up he chanced a look in the mirror. He was so pale, dark circles looked like bruises under his eyes. He felt tired all the time, all he wanted to do was curl up in bed with that hot water bottle Eric bought him and sleep. But even sleep was hard to come by when there were times that as soon as his head hit the pillow, his eyes popped open, wide awake and mind racing.

How was his family coping with his absence? Did Joe tell Mom and Dad about the vampires, or did he engineer some creative cover story with Phil for their own protection? Please don't let Joe be working on some sort of hair-brained scheme to find him, he needed to stay safe. He had his future with Vanessa to think about. Had they held Biff's funeral yet? How was Phil holding up? Had he taken the holiday decorations down already or were they still up? Oh Phil, I miss you so much!

Frank turned over the item he had snuck into the bathroom with him in his hands. The emerald on his silver bracelet glinted in the light. He turned the center link over and re-read the words on the back. _I won't lose you_.

Oh great, here comes another pity-party. Frank sniffed, remembering the night Phil gave it to him, when he'd given himself to Phil, heart, body and soul. That was it. Deep down in his soul he had finally found the one. For the first time in his life he allowed himself to envision the white picket fence, making a permanent home with Phil. Thanks to the new state laws, even marry him. Adopt a child. Wake up to Phil every morning, grow old with him.

Grow old. No, now he won't. If Eric finally gets his way, he'll never see Phil again. But then, he wouldn't want Phil to see him like that. He would be just like Eric, a murderer, a monster! And even on the off chance he was rescued or managed to escape, would Phil still want him after he knew what Eric had done to him, or what he had resigned to do for Eric to protect everyone?

"Damn it! No!" Frank cried as he hurled the bracelet across the bathroom, it clinked and pinged as it hit the tiled wall. He sat there for a while, letting the tears fall where they may, off the end of his nose, down his cheeks as he sat on the closed toilet. When he was done feeling sorry for his self he got up and looked for the tossed piece of jewelry. When he picked it up, the emerald had fallen out.

"No! No no no!" Frank whispered to himself as he got down on his hands and knees to look for the green gem. He found it under the tub, and carefully he plucked it up between his two fingers. Frank walked over to the bathroom sink where the light was better.

"Crap!" Frank was pretty handy when it came to fixing things, but he was sure there wouldn't be any tools in this place available to him to fix this. Then something caught his eye, he angled the center link just so, and then the light caught it again. Inside the link, under the setting for the emerald, was a micro chip of sorts, a tracking device!

Frank's heart began to pound. The possibilities began to swirl in his head.

"Phil, you evil baby genius!"

_I won't lose you._

…..

"Yes! Awe man you're killing it! No, go there, look take out that one on the top of the warehouse."

"I'm going, I'm going!" Frank's fingers were tapping madly on the game controller in his hands, he was seated beside Ezekiel in what the vampire youth deemed, "Control Central."

It was the technological heart and soul of the vampire's fortress. From there Ezekiel had access to the outside world, all of the mansion's security and locking systems, and the signal blocker that helped them maintain a low profile in the world. And like Phil's computerized lair, there were several monitors, keyboards and the like. Also, the room was a video gamer's paradise. Ezekiel had the most up to date versions of Xbox, Wii and Playstation, all hooked up to a large, flat screen HDTV.

"How do you vampires afford all of this?" Frank wondered to himself, but apparently he had said it out loud.

"When you live as long as we have, you build up quite a nest egg. Off shore accounts keep us out of Uncle Sam's line of sight."

The blonde youth stretched in his seat and yawned.

"I don't think I can keep my eyes open much longer? How about you?"

"I'm wired from insomnia and coffee." Frank said as he continued to take out his aggression on his virtual enemies.

"Eww, I never liked the taste of that stuff." Ezekiel crinkled his nose at the distant memory.

"To bad you came along too soon for Starbuck's, you'd be addicted. Yes!" Frank put down the controller and looked at his gaming companion.

Ezekiel looked like he would fall over any minute. Frank had taken advantage of Amy and Eric's current hunt to engage the youth in a Call of Duty marathon. They had played well into the early morning hours, even after Amy and Eric came home, well fed and sated. Amy insisted that they all turn in for the day, but Ezekiel was determined to beat Frank at the game. And that had been two hours ago. He noticed that as the sun was hopefully rising, as indicated by the hour on the clock, that Ezekiel was getting more and more sluggish.

"Ezekiel, why don't you go ahead and turn in for the night, er, day? I want to change my avatar's get up and weapons anyway." But the youth yawned wide.

"No, gotta close up shop and lock up."

"Can't you set a timer on the computer? Give me about thirty more minutes here and the door will lock behind me, right?" Ezekiel pondered this for a minute then he nodded. He tapped a few keys on the keyboard and then got up.

"G'night Frank."

"Good night Ezekiel." Frank waited until he heard the locking mechanisms of Ezekiel's bedroom door engage, and then counted down five minutes. The boy should be dead to the world by now, Frank thought as he tiptoed to the computers. He pulled his bracelet out of his jeans pocket and laid it on the desk.

"Okay Phil, please see this." Frank searched the computer files until he found the one for the signal blocker. He clicked on the command to power down and then sat there. His knee was starting to shake again as he watched the clock on the lower part of the screen. Ten minutes, please give me ten minutes for everything to recalibrate and let the signal get through. He looked at the timer for the room's door, fifteen minutes left.

"C'mon, please let this work." Finally, time was up. He said a silent prayer that Phil would still be checking his computer for any possible signal transmissions. He restarted the signal blocker program and slid his bracelet back into his pocket. Frank closed out of all the windows he had opened, making sure everything looked just the way Ezekiel left it.

He had no sooner stepped out of the room when the door automatically shut and the bolts clicked into place.

"Frank, what are you still doing up?" Eric said sleepily as he felt Frank finally climb in bed. "Just messing around with Ezekiel's game. Go back to sleep, I want to hear about the hunt when you wake up." He kissed Eric's cheek and the taller man rolled back over. Frank laid there awake for the longest time. He now knew how Phil had felt all those years ago the first time he ever hacked into another computer for one of their cases. Frank did not fear divine retribution though, but he hoped like hell none of the dead souls under this roof caught on to his little trick.

…..

Monday evening arrived with no apparent retribution, divine or otherwise. Yet that did not stop Frank for regretting his actions. It had been a selfish, stupid, and not well thought out plan. If Phil did find the transmission, it would just be leading his brother, lover and friends into a foolish rescue mission that would ultimately lead to their deaths. What had he been thinking? At least they would know you were alive and okay, he tried to rationalize. No, that would never be good enough for Joe. Frank might as well have signed their death certificates.

Eric took what he thought as a sullen mood for Frank, as his still trying to come to terms with his future. Even Eric had panicky moments when he wondered if he was in too deep, if choosing this life was really what he wanted. But Amy had calmed his fears, and even though he was not interested in women, had let her continue to love on him as he received her venom. He found her presence comforting, like they had known each other forever. He could tell her anything, and he trusted her. Although their dynamic shifted immediately after his transformation, he still relished in laying his troubles at her feet, resting his head in her lap and having her gentle fingers stroke his hair. Maybe one day he and Frank would be this close again.

He found Frank in the library later that night, staring out from the moonlit window to the snowy woods beyond. Unconsciously, Frank was rubbing his aching shoulder, flexing and rotating it like he remembered Frank would do whenever they played baseball back in college. Eric walked up to Frank and enveloped him in an embrace from behind. Frank hummed softly as he leaned back, still enjoying the view.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Eric whispered. Frank nodded, and continued to rub his aches.

"You're due for another treatment tonight. But I think we're going to try something different. Something I think you will like and give your neck and shoulder a break." Frank immediately knew what Eric was thinking. He'd managed to avoid any more real intimacy with Eric since the tub incident, other than sweet kisses and hugs.  
"I promise you don't have to do a thing but lay back and enjoy. Leave the rest to me." With that Eric swiftly hoisted Frank over his shoulder and the brunette allowed himself to laugh nervously as Eric took the steps two at a time up to their bedroom.

He dropped Frank onto the mattress, causing the smaller man to bounce a couple of times. Eric quickly removed his clothes and did the same for Frank. Eric covered his mouth and nose with his hands quickly to reel in his senses. It would not do to go lose control and go back to square one with Frank when they had come so far. But the man lying naked on the bed before him was a feast for his eyes. No, he could wait. It would be so worth it if they waited. Frank would be strong enough to take a pounding. He would be a fair match to wrestle and rough house with in bed. And when Frank would take him, with that dark red cock inside him at last…

_Breathe damn it!_

Eric settled between Frank's legs, supported himself with his arms above Frank and kissed him deeply. Frank broke away, breathless.

"Eric?"

"Right, right." He started licking Frank's chest and trailed his long wet tongue down to the brunette's navel. Eric felt his lover squirm.

"Tickles." Came the high squeak. Eric chuckled and moved further, wrapping his hand around Frank's cock, and taking the organ in his mouth all at once. He curled his sinful tongue around sucked, massaged, and stroked. From the corner of his eye he saw the toes on Frank's foot curl into the sheets. He smiled around Frank's cock and continued the sweet torture for while longer.

He could hear the blood racing through his lover's veins and could detect the muscles in his body tensing. He pulled off and Frank whimpered from the loss. Eric's hand took over while he nuzzled Frank's lower belly and hips with his face. When he could detect the best spot in the bend of Frank's leg and hip, he latched on with his lips, sucking and preparing the skin with his saliva. He could sense Frank's climax was imminent, and his fangs began to protract. Just as Frank thrust hard into Eric's hand, the vampire sank his canines in his tender flesh. The brunette howled in pleasure, arching his back and effectively rocking his hips as the venom pumped into his blood stream.

When Frank came down from his high, panting and gasping, Eric had moved back up to the head of the bed. He was propped up on one elbow, a smirk on his face. He leaned over and pushed a stray hair from Frank's forehead.

"Was that better?" The ginger asked. Frank's eyes fluttered closed, but the young man nodded.

"Yeah, a lot better."


	19. A Hard Place

Chapter 19: A Hard Place

Phil stirred his coffee, staring out onto the den from his spot at the kitchen table. The artificial Christmas tree looked dead, then again it really didn't look that attractive unless the lights were on at night. But during the day with the lights out it just looked like sad reminder of the way he felt inside. Phil's inside lights were out.

The menorah still sat at the windows, collecting dust, he really should clean it and pry out the melted wax. The cluster of mistletoe that Frank left hanging was starting to dry out, Phil had stepped on a couple of curled, dead leaves earlier.

Vanessa and Joe had asked him down to nearly every breakfast and dinner since they got back from Old Man Hooper's farm days ago. Phil half-heartedly accepted the invitations, because in a way, he didn't want to be alone. At night when he was alone in that apartment, all he could do was worry and think about Frank. When he slept, he had nightmares about that horrible night. He hadn't shaved in days, he was distracted when he was at work, and worst of all were the lies.

Phil had to lie to Frank's parents. He didn't get to break the news to them directly, he had his part to play as the incensed boyfriend. It had been Joe's burden to weave the tale to Fenton and Laura Hardy that on New Year's Eve, Frank ran into an old boyfriend. Phil had thrown a jealous fit, and Frank had stormed out with the old beau.

"But that just doesn't sound like Frank." Laura said when she called Phil to get his side of the story.

"When I came home after the party it looked like he'd grabbed a couple days worth of clothes and his toothbrush. Left a note that said he'd call me when we've had a few days for both of us to cool off."

"Well he's not answering his cell phone when I call him." Mrs. Hardy insisted.

"Laura, we made quite a scene at Pasquale's, we had both been drinking and said things I think neither of us are proud of." Laura sighed.

"Well, he gets that much honest. If Fenton and Frank are anything alike, they both have their stupid pride. Look dear, I won't press you for any more details. What happened was between you and Frank, and you're both grown men. But if you hear from Frank, would you please tell him to call me?"

"Yes Ma'am." It was all Phil could do to control his voice as he hung up his phone.

Alf Hooper's gift of vampire blood was not going to waste. Every day that Frank's body did not turn up, as was the modus operandi of the vampires, helped stoke the flicker of hope that what he and his friends were planning would work.

"This is for you, Frank." Phil toasted the vial as he turned it up, chasing it with the coffee. Oh G-d that was disgusting. His mother and Rabbi would flip out if they knew he was ingesting such an unholy liquid. But he had to admit, his body was reaping the benefits. It had given him the energy to get through the past week despite his lack of sleep and poor eating habits.

A soft knock on the door and a quiet "Phil?" let the black haired boy know Joe was waiting on the other side. Alf had been right about the more acute senses. Joe had barely whispered his name and he could hear it as if the blonde was standing next to him.

"It's unlocked." Phil said just as quietly, and he heard the door open and Joe amble into the apartment as he drained his mug of the dark brown liquid.

"Well you're looking scruffier than usual." Joe said in an attempt at humor. Phil just shrugged as he got up from the table and put his breakfast dishes into the sink.

"How're you this morning?" Phil asked the blonde as he reached for his winter jacket and keys.

"Not too bad, I've got a lot of nervous energy this morning. Slept like a rock last night."

"Luck you." Phil deadpanned.

"Still can't sleep good?" Phil didn't even bother to respond. He poured more coffee in a travel mug and stuffed another donut in his mouth.

"Ready?" he mumbled around the mouthful.

"Sure." Joe picked up his and Phil's overnight bags and led the way to the elevator.

They rode in relative silence to Alf Hooper's farm. Biff and Chet were going to meet them there, as well as Biff's cousin Buddy and a few extended family members who were also vampire hunters.

"Talk to your Mom and Dad lately?" Phil broke the silence.

"Last night. Mom's a wreck. I think, no, I know Dad is aware something's up. He keeps prodding at the office, but what do I say? Dad, Frank had been kidnapped by a love-sick vampire. Who you say? Oh, remember Eric, the dead body that you saw Frank identify in the morgue months ago? Yeah, him."

"This is all so unbelievable. But Biff was right. I would not have believed a word he'd said. I'd think he was off his rocker."

"But if I did tell Dad the truth, whether he believed me or not, he'd get the authorities involved, and if those blood suckers caught wind that there was a missing persons report out on Frank, who knows what they'd do to him."

"We're caught between a rock and a hard place."

"You ain't kidding."

…..

"I'd like you boys to meet my grandson Buddy, and my cousin's sons Alex, Brad and Chad." Everyone gathered in Alf Hooper's kitchen reached over to shake hands and introduce themselves.

"Buddy? If you're Biff's uncle's oldest son, don't you have an "A" name?" Chet asked. The other Hooper cousins chortled, but a searing look from the tall, muscular man silenced the trio.

"Yes, Chet, my name is really Ambrose." Buddy replied.

"So you can see why he'd stick to "Buddy." The one named Alex interjected. Alex was shorter than his younger brothers, but he made up for it in solid muscle. Brad and Chad, identical twins, looked like they were full of mischief, even for men in their mid twenties.

"Alright knuckleheads, bundle up and head outside."

Alf Hooper was toting a box of various weapons as they marched outside into the deep snow and cold January air. Phil noticed the trek was not as arduous as it would have been a week ago, he didn't even feel as cold as he should in twenty degree weather. His hands and face weren't chapping or reddening from the exposure to the cold. To him, it felt like a crisp, fifty degree day. Way off in the distance, Alf had targets set up. They looked like pin points at first, but Phil blinked and focused again, and the targets seemed much closer.

"Lesson one, ballistics." The older man announced as he produced a compound bow from the box.

"You're up first Chubby Checker." Alf said, pointing the bow toward Chet.

"I… I haven't shot one of those since boy scouts!" the young man stammered, as Joe gently pushed him forward.

"Just give it a shot." He encouraged. Chet accepted the bow and arrow and took the shooter's stance. When he released the string, he was surprised to see he had actually hit the target.

"I hit it! Oh my G-d!" he said, flabbergasted.

"Congratulations, you slowed him down." Mr. Hooper handed Chet the binoculars. "If that were really a vampire you'd still have to tuck tail and run. The point is to stop him or her in their tracks." Alf then clapped him on his back. "But that's a good start. I want you to go through that whole quiver, and then start over. With your medical expertise I want you to hang back and bring up the rear. I want you in as little of the fight as possible, shit may happen and we would need your skills. Understood?" It wasn't so much a suggestion as a direct order. He turned to Alex.

"Stick with him, and give him a few pointers in our brand of first aid."

"No problem Alf." The stocky man replied.

The rest of group then walked over to another set of targets. These were hanging burlap sacks filled with straw.

"Spring training! How's your throwing arm Joe?"

"Good I suppose." Alf passed Joe a handful of stakes.

"Aim for dead center of the bull's eye, otherwise you're just gonna piss 'em off."

"Yes sir." Joe took a steadying breath, aimed and threw the stake at the dummy. The stake impaled the sack just on the edge of the red circle.

"Work on your timing and aim. I'll get you two to switch up in a minute." He pulled Phil over to another grouping, this time silhouette targets. Buddy was opening a lock box containing bullets and Brad was loading a twenty two caliber magazine with bullets from another lock box.

"Ever shot one of these, son?" Phil shook his head. The older man gave him a thorough run down of how to point, shoot, engage and disengage the safety. Phil held the automatic pistol in shaky hands as he aimed for the target.

"Want me to draw some pointy teeth on if for you?" Brad asked.

"Shut up you little pisser." Alf barked. Phil tried again, lining up the sights with the kill zone of the target. When he squeezed the trigger the gun reported louder than he anticipated. If it hadn't been for the fortifying strength provided by the vampire blood, he was sure the kick back would have knocked him on his ass. Guns were Frank and Joe's thing, not his.

"Holy crap! I ain't believing this!" Chad cried out, then he started laughing.

"Well, I'll be damned." Alf said, smiling.

"Beginner's luck." Brad muttered. He handed Phil the binoculars and the dark haired boy could not believe his eyes.

"Bull's eye!" Alf said proudly.

…..

By sunset everyone had taken a turn throwing the stakes, shooting the gun and arrows. A little hand to hand combat had even been practiced using rubber knives. Joe and Phil felt a little silly going at each other this way, but then they sat back and watched Biff and Buddy have it out.

They felt the earth shake beneath their feet when one of them was thrown down by the other, watching the other roll away lightening quick before the other pounced, Buddy even managed to draw blood after Biff had him in headlock, throwing a well aimed punch directly to Biff's nose. But Biff continued to wrestle his cousin, undeterred.

"Alright Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee, that's enough." The cousin got up, dusting off the snow and dirt from their clothes at their grandfather's order.

"Now, time for some fireworks." Mr. Hooper held up a bottle of a milky, pale yellow liquid. "You boys ever heard of a Molotov Cocktail?"

"Yeah, but why would you use that instead of a grenade?" Joe asked, as he examined the bottle in his hands. "And where's the wick?"

"Toss a grenade at a vampire, you may blow him and a neighbor to smithereens, but the flame goes out too quick. This cocktail here will spread the flames and will stop more vampires. This combination is carbon disulfide, white phosphorus and sulfur. Don't need to hazard lighting it, when this stuff meets the air it will ignite."

"Wait, you mean vampires are susceptible to fire? You didn't mention that the other day."

"Oops!" Alf exaggerated. "Now here Joe, aim this at that old chicken coop."

"Papa!"

"What? Haven't had chickens in years, needed to tear it down anyway. Go ahead boy." Joe nodded and pitched the bottle to the old wooden structure. On impact the coop went up in flames, fire spread like liquid quickly all over the roof and trailing down the posts.

"See? Maximum coverage from minimum impact." The group stood and watched the chicken coop burn down. By the time the structure was down to a smoldering pile, Buddy and Biff were using snow shovels to toss large clumps of snow onto the remains to smother the embers.

Alex and Chad were already on the farmhouse's back porch firing up the gas grill and Brad was in the kitchen seasoning the steaks.

"Oh please tell me we don't have to eat those medium rare too." Phil pleaded. Alf just laughed and pulled a gallon of tea from the refrigerator.

"No, even I can't take 'em bloody. I know a beer sure would be good with it, but we need to abstain at least until this is over. Alcohol will thin out the vampire serum. That's why Allen took such a beating New Years Eve, screwed up when he pulled a drunk after Christmas." Biff scowled and walked back out to the porch, the screen door slamming behind him.

"Ouch." muttered Brad.

"I'll go talk to him." Buddy headed for the door, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"No Bud, I was out of line. I'll go." Alf followed after his grandson, leaving Joe, Phil, Chet and the Hooper cousins in the kitchen.

"Biff's been beating himself up about your brother Frank. He's been thinking if he hadn't gotten drunk over Carl's death, he would have been strong enough to take those bloodsuckers down. Who knows, he may have, but Biff's never had to tackle a group on his own, he's always had a partner. And Papa, he's always been hard on us, but only because this is so dangerous. It's for our own good."

…..

"Joe?"

"Yeah Phil?"

"Do you think Frank's still alive?" Joe pondered the whispered question. Biff and Chet were across the room on old army cots, their redheaded friend was snoring loudly. Joe and Phil were sharing the double bed that had once been Biff's father's when he was growing up. Neither man could sleep, thinking of what the next day would bring.

"I think," Joe finally answered, "if he were dead, I'd feel it, deep in my heart, in my bones. Like that time he was in that bad wreck when I was on spring break years ago. I just knew something wasn't right, and when I got the call from Dad the next morning to tell me what happened, that confirmed it. I don't feel that now. I know Frank's in danger, but I don't have that feeling of mortal peril yet. Does that make sense?"

"I guess. I just keep counting my blessings that his body hasn't turned up. Every day it doesn't I know there's a possibility he's okay. I want him to be okay so bad Joe."

"Yeah. I want him okay, I want him home, and happy. I want him to be standing beside me come June. I just can't imagine not having my best man there."

"If you two don't shut up and try to sleep you're going to be dragging ass tomorrow." Biff had rolled over in the cot, facing the bed.

"Sorry man." Joe turned over to face the wall and Phil faced the window. The moon was full and bright, lighting up the bedroom. Phil sighed and forced his eyes shut.

…..

"Scent-A-Way?"

"Fox Urine.

"Raccoon Urine?"

"They mask the human scent, hunters use them." Old man Hooper passed the atomizer bottles around. "Pick your poison gentlemen, and then we'll be on our way." It was still dark outside, but the group had a two hour drive ahead of them and they wanted to arrive just as the sun came up.

"What, now?"

"We'll smell like fox piss the whole ride up!" Chet protested.

"We don't want those things catching our human scent, and that includes the parking area."

"Point made."

"I'll crack the windows."

….

HersherState Park had been nearly abandoned after a series of hikers had been killed while camping overnight twenty years ago. The police investigations went cold and the public remained scared. Despite promotional campaigns by the state, park attendance dropped sharply, and so did funding. Now the park and grounds had fallen to neglect, the old Hersher Estate had been condemned and abandoned. Only the fool-hearty ventured through the main gate, with a warning from park ranger to enter at your own risk and to be back by sunset.

The fool-hearty arrived just as the sun peaked over the horizon. Alex had managed to attain more up-to-date editions of the park's map, more up-to-date meaning they were at least twenty years old as opposed to the half-century old one Old Man Hooper had. Alf spread one of the newer maps out on the hood of his truck, pointing out areas and breaking the boys up into groups.

"Buddy and Allen, you two take the west. See if that old southern service entrance is passable for a vehicle or if they've fenced it up. Fix it if that's the case, we're going to need it.

Alex and Checker, follow them. Scout out a rally point and a place for our medic here to lay low and provide cover fire if needed.

Thing One and Thing Two, you cover the entire east side along the river, there used to be rental cabins between the trail and the shore. Look for any signs of use, loose boards or disturbed earth. If you find any, don't attack, we don't want to show our hand yet. And cover your tracks if you do. Find any people, tell them to get the hell out.

Joe and Phil, you're with me, we're going to check out the old Hersher place. Now remember everyone, anything significant that's not on your map, mark and make a note of it, we'll compile everything on all the maps later tonight."

What should have taken hours trudging through the knee deep snow took only twenty minutes as Joe, Phil and Alf arrived in the clearing where the old Hersher mansion stood.

"That place is huge." Said an awestruck Joe.

"Mm, the Hersher family had ties in the railroad, oil and charities. I came here after I enlisted. They had a huge ball for all the local boys going to war. This is where I met Marjorie. Anyway, the inside is even more impressive than the outside. But in the late forties the family fell on hard times, and a couple of their sons had been killed in the war. So Mrs. Hersher tried to convert the place into a bed and breakfast, some of those huge bedrooms were cut in half to accommodate more guests. But it just didn't take. So in her will, she turned the whole property over to the state, and the rest is history."

"That place has enough rooms to be a hotel. It's no telling how many vampires are in there." Phil despaired. "How… how are the nine of us going to stop a whole mansion full of vampires? Especially me, Joe and Chet? We're not vampire hunters! And Joe's used to fighting, Chet can tackle, but what good can I do? I punch buttons all day! How are we supposed to get in there and save Frank?"

"Uh oh, he's starting to wig out." Joe murmured to Alf. Old man Hooper walked over to Phil.

"Pull up a log and sit down, I'm gonna tell you a story." Joe and Phil cleared off a couple of fallen logs and sat down.

"In the last months of World War II, I was in Germany, we had liberated a concentration camp. Well, I say we liberated it, those poor people were so sick and weak we couldn't release them into the general population yet for their own safety. But we had doctors, army and local, as well as the Red Cross and local merchants bringing in food, medicine and supplies to get them back on their feet.

Several were still dying from disease and the effects of long term starvation, but quite a few were beginning to get stronger by the day. After a few weeks I noticed some of them were starting to go missing. Thought maybe they couldn't wait for the doctors to give them a clean bill of health, and got the hell out of there. I wouldn't blame them. But patrols around the camp started finding the bodies. And I saw the marks.

Well, around that same time my company had to pull out, the Red Cross was going to take over from there. But I requested to stay on so they'd have a little fire power. My C.O. okayed it, so I remained. That night was a nightmare, without our troops there the bloodsuckers went nuts. Those poor souls in that camp were like fish in a barrel to those vampires.

I managed to get two or three of the bastards. A few of the prisoners who were considerably healthier than the others, my guess because they hadn't been there nearly as long, saw me take them down. They wanted to help. So then and there, even though it was strictly against their religion to do so, I bleed the vampires and ten of those prisoners drank up. Now you imagine, I've asked you boys to drink a vial a night, those ten guys drank the entire blood volume of three vampires. They were super-charged to say the least.

Next night those bastards didn't stand a chance, we had our own loses, but we wound up burning fifteen vampires that night. Only one vampire slipped through my fingers. I'll never forget that creep's face. Whitish hair, white skin and damn-near white eyes. I'll never forget it because that was not the first nor the last time I ran in to him. Slippery fucker. Benny even described one that looked like it that attacked him and killed Alfred…

But yes, me and ten sickly Jewish prisoners took out nearly a whole clan in a night. We had virtually no time to plan, no other weapons but our bare hands and the wooden stakes we had sharpened during the day! We've got an advantage over this bunch this time. We're planning, we have firepower and we're training. I strongly feel like we can do this young man."

…..

"There's only one security camera that I can see from the outside, it's over the front doors." Phil said as he met up with Joe near what had once been a garage for the family vehicles. Now it was piled high with large renovation debris and broken furniture. "But the back door, to what must be the old servant's entrance, it's been replaced with a steel security door. When it locks, bolts on all four sides engage. I'm guessing the front doors are the same way."

"Forget the windows, they're barred, and some sort of inside shutter too. No one's going in, or coming out." Joe said miserably.

"The chimneys!" said Mr. Hooper. "We can drop you two down those things like Santa Claus, you can go in and get Frank."

"We'll never fit down those things!" hissed Joe.

"Sure you will, as skinny as you two are. These old mansions aren't exactly known for their energy efficiency. Those chimneys had to be big enough for sweeps to climb up and down for cleaning."

"What if they've been retro-fitted?"

"Seriously doubt it, what do vampires need with heating? Besides, there's a heat pump in the back, probably just enough to keep their human companions warm, and that would use a different vent system altogether. Worse you could run into is a metal barrier, to block the heat rising up and out the chimneys. Send you in there with a screw driver and you should be good to go."

"How are we going to get up on the roof, it's nearly three stories?" Phil asked.

"If you keep taking that vampire blood like I told you, by next week you should be able to get a running start, hop and grab onto that downspout, and shimmy the rest of the way up." Alf pointed out.

"And we two mortals plop down into a den of fucking vampires."

Alf stood, peering into the garage window. He smirked and turned to the boys.

"Then we'll have to draw them out."

…..

"All the rental cabins and hiking shelters have been deserted for a long time, no signs of use by man or vampire." Chad said over his mug of hot cider later that afternoon.

"That south entrance had been fenced up, but it was chain-link. Biff and I snipped an opening wide enough for the truck to get through. Then we used tie-wraps to hold it back in place. Shouldn't take five minutes to clear those out when we go back." Buddy reported as he leaned back on the worn sofa in the Hooper basement.

"Chet and I found a really good vantage point for cover and a potential rally point here." Alex pointed to the map.

"Ah shit! Alf, have you got anymore old silver? I'm nearly out for making the arrow tips and bullets!" called Brad from the brick oven in the corner. Chet was manning the bellows as the young Hooper was in the process of smelting some old silver to make the needed weapons for their planned attack. The basement had grown uncomfortably warm, so Biff opened a few of the basement windows to let in some cool air. Alf got up from his easy chair to check out the problem.

Joe was seated near the group of Hoopers, flipping through their books, and Phil was gazing at the pictures on the shelves. An old black and white group picture caught his eye, it looked vaguely familiar. In it, a gathering of painfully thin prisoners of war were standing and sitting with a delegation of Red Cross volunteers. To the left, stood a young man in U.S. military fatigues, the man looked remarkably like Biff. Wait a minute, Phil thought, he squinted his eyes and looked at the gaunt faces. He had seen this picture before, in his Zaide's album, and there, in a faded and tattered prisoner's uniform standing next to the American soldier, was his grandfather.

"Mr. Hooper!"

"Hang on Phillip, got a crisis over here." The older man called from his box of supplies.

"But sir, this man in the photo, do you remember him?" Phil brought the framed picture to him and he looked at the man in question.

"Sure do! Don't remember his name, but I'm good with faces. He was one of the first ones to volunteer to help with our bloodsucker infestation." Phil stepped away, reeling with the new information. His grandfather! He helped Mr. Hooper fight off vampires…

"Look, Mr. Hooper, while you're going down memory lane, does this look anything like the vampire you've seen through the years?" Joe showed him the copy of picture he had on his smart phone.

"Well damn. That's him, the spooky son of a bitch."

"That's who we think has Frank, or at least he's part of the group that has him. It's Magnus Haraldson."

"I don't give a damn what his name is. But I would die a happy man if I could see him put down once and for all." He turned back to Brad.

"I hate to do it, but I believe I need to go upstairs and get into Marjorie's mother's silver."

"No, wait!" Phil called to Alf, "I think I know where I get you some more silver."


	20. A Small World

Chapter 20: A Small World

Aaron Cohen studied the board before him, waiting for his opponent to make his mistake. The shorter, rounder man across from him made his move and sat back expectantly with a smile on his face.

"Now, what do you have to say to that?" Aaron regarded the board one more time and went in for the kill.

"Checkmate! That's what I have to say." The older man grinned as he leaned forward on his cane.

"Schmuck!" the round man scoffed.

"At least I can still find mine, Mordechai!" Aaron laughed.

"Zaide, if you can't play nice with Mr. Rosen, I'm not going to let you have play dates together anymore!" called his daughter-in-law Ruth.

"What? Play date? Just because he wears a diaper we're toddlers now?" Aaron argued.

"Not a diaper! Its disposable underwear for adults." Huffed Mr. Rosen. The doorbell rang just then and Ruth dropped the argument.

"Phillip! Gracious, what brings you over? Oh, never mind, we were just going to sit down to dinner in a few. Won't you join us?" Ruth gushed over her grandson.

"Actually Bubbe, I need to speak to Elter Zaide for a minute, in private." His grandmother's eyes widened in surprise, but she led the way to the sunroom where Mr. Cohen and Rosen were playing chess.

"Mr. Rosen, you remember my son's youngest boy, Phillip? Phillip, this is a long time friend of your elter zaide's, Mr. Rosen, from across the street. He moved in with his daughter last month." Mr. Rosen nodded politely and then leaned closer to Mr. Cohen and whispered.

"This the faigheleh nebet* you told me about?"

"This is my very bright great-grandson, Mordechai. He's got a degree in computers and knows Yiddish and Hebrew very, very well." The round man's face colored as he sat up straighter. He started standing up and held out his hand to Phil.

"It was very good to meet you young man." Phil accepted the hand graciously and the old man left the room, calling out to Ruth that he was ready to go home.

"I'm sorry about Morde, he doesn't know how to put his brain gear before he engages his mouth. Would you like to join me for a game?" Phil's elter zaide asked.

"I really need to ask you about something Zaide."

"Ask away…"

"I know you don't like to talk about the war…"

"You can stop asking now."

"Does this look familiar?" Phil pulled the framed photo from Mr. Hooper's house from under his jacket. Aaron took the frame from his great-grandson hesitantly, his eyes scanned the picture.

"Where did you get this? I have one just like it…"

"In your album, I know. The American soldier, he's my friend Biff's grandfather."

"Well, it's a small world, isn't it? Wonder what happened to that nice young man."

"I got this copy from him. He's still alive, living out in the country."

"That's good. Is he in good health?"

"Great, never better. You'd never know by the way he lifts a stack of firewood like a bag of marshmallows that he was a man in his late eighties." Aaron swallowed and turned his head to the window.

"He doesn't remember your name, but he remembers you."

"Does he now?"

"He told me what happened, at Gusen."

"A lot of things happened at Gusen, we had a war for crying out loud."

"Zaide!" But the older man stubbornly stared out the window, refusing to look at Phil.

Phil picked up the black rook.

"I'll buy you a new one." Phil said. Aaron raised an eyebrow, wondering what on earth Phil was talking about. He turned his head and watched as Phil crushed the rook in his hand to powder, and let it pour out onto one of the tiles on the board. His eyes went wide. He met Phil's eyes and found a mournful look on the boy's face.

"The vampire that attacked your camp and got away, is here. We think he's in HersherPark. Frank and I didn't have a fight New Years Eve like his brother and I have been telling everyone.

They have Frank. If we don't get him out at least by this coming weekend, they'll turn him, I'll lose him forever.

We've been drinking from a supply Biff's grandfather has of vampire blood, to prepare for the attack. We're gathering supplies, training. We're melting down silver for bullets and arrow tips. But we've run out. Mr. Hooper was about to dip into his wife's good silver, but…"

"I've heard enough!" Phil looked at his elter zaide surprised, about to plea his case but Mr. Cohen stopped him short.

"Help me up, Phillip."

"Zaide?"

"Do you want my help or not?" Aaron looked at Phil, a serious look on his face, but a smile started to pull at his lips.

"Yes sir!"

…..

"Hooperman, that was his name wasn't it?" Mr. Cohen asked as he plucked a copper key off a hook.

"Hooper, Alf Hooper." Phil corrected as he supported his great-grandfather by his elbow while they walked up the attic stairs. Thankfully the attic of the Cohen's old Victorian house had a regular staircase and not a drop-down like in modern homes. Aaron unlocked the attic door and pulled the chain for the overhead light.

"Grab that box up there on the left." Phil complied and lifted the heavy box with ease. "Did you learn about bartering back at that fancy college of yours?"

"Yes, Zaide." Phil smiled.

"Well, when I was starting up my business here after the war, folks, especially those of us just starting out in this country, didn't have a lot of money. But life went on, we had young folks getting married, anniversaries, birthdays.

Back then some jewelry stores also sold fine dinnerware and house wares like candle sticks, candelabras, platters and tea services. So my brother-in-law and I, we bartered with the customers, they brought us something of value, we sold them something of equal value. Then we'd take the things, sell them what we could get for them, it kept the lights on, a roof over our heads… you get the idea."

"Some items," Mr. Cohen picked up a silver cup, "I held on to. Something just told me to hang on to these pieces, that they'd come in handy some day. I never knew why. My wife would say "Aaron get rid of this stuff, you're just cluttering up the attic with it. Or sell them, we could afford to go to Jerusalem on vacation one year." But I said no, I've held to my collection for this long… Phillip, I think I now know why."

Aaron picked up Phil's hand and placed the silver cup in it, curling his great-grandson's fingers over it.

"You take this silver, every box. Smelt it down and go get your basherter* out of that lion's den." Phil's eyes had started to mist.

"But, Zaide, I didn't think you approved of…"

"I am an old man, Phillip. I don't know if it's meant for me to understand your relationship with this Frank boy. I wasn't raised to understand it. But it's not for me to judge you. If you're happy, and safe, that I can live with."

"Thank you Zaide. I love you."

"I love you too, Phillip." Aaron embraced Phil, patting his back.

"So, which of you does the cooking? Because you could use some meat on those bones."

"Zaide!"

…..

Phil closed the apartment door and sagged against it. It had been one long fucking day. Once he'd crammed all those boxes of silver whatnots into his car, he rode back out to Old man Hooper's farm to unload them and retrieve Joe. Mr. Hooper had been more than appreciative of Mr. Cohen's charity.

"I… I don't know what to say. When this is all over I'll have to go out there and thank him personally."

"I think he would really like that. But Mr. Hooper, what you and your family are doing for us and Frank is thanks enough." Phil said sincerely.

It was now nearly midnight and he was definitely feeling the effects of the physically taxing weekend. He dropped his overnight bag onto the floor and tossed his keys into the catch-all under the hall mirror.

"Shower, must get shower." He mumbled to himself. Afterward he flopped down in bed face first. His eyes and limbs felt like lead as his body sank into the mattress. Then his eyes flew open. Damn insomnia. He tossed and turned in bed, but finally he gave up and climbed out.

Phil went to his computer and checked the weekend's worth of email. That done, he checked the week ahead forecast, and finally he opened up the tracking device program. He sighed heavily as the program revealed the signal was still being blocked, he hit he signal history button, and noticed a change. Six forty-five A.M., the signal lasted for ten minutes. Whoa, wait a minute! He turned away from that monitor and hit a few keys on the other keyboard. The satellite image over HersherPark was unblocked for the same ten minutes, the entire park was visible during that time. With the knowledge he now had about vampire behavior, he could only guess that Frank found a way to send out the signal while the vamps were down for the day.

"Holy sh… Frank! Oh my G-d, Frank!" He yelled at the top of his lungs. Phil picked up his phone and punched Joe's number.

"Joe! Van? Hey, it's Phil. I'm sorry, I know it's late, put Joe on the phone, please! Joe? Get up here now! It's Frank!"

...

"I take back what I said about being creeped out because you put a tracking device on Frank's jewelry. When we get him back I'm going to have you implant one in the back of his neck." Joe couldn't wipe the smile off his face though. The first sign of life from his older brother in a week had him more alert now than he had been all day, and more hopeful than he'd been all week.

"Friday can't get here soon enough." Phil said. He couldn't take his eyes off the computer screen. He remained in his office for another hour after Joe finally left for his own apartment. He placed his hand on the flat screen, his palm over the bird's eye image of the Hersher mansion.

"We're coming baby. You just hold on a few more days."

Author's Note:

*faigheleh nebet – Hebrew: gay nerd

*basherter – Hebrew: soulmate (male)


	21. This Is It Boys

Chapter 21: This is it boys…

Vanessa Bender helped Joe pack for the weekend to come. Wool socks, dark warm clothes, neoprene gloves, stocking caps and so on. This wasn't the first time she had helped him pack to investigate a case out of town. She almost knew the packing list by heart now. Even though there were always risks associated with each trip, deep down she knew Joe would do his hardest to come back home safe. But she would be lying if she said she wasn't scared out of her wits about the current situation.

She didn't realize she had been sitting there staring at his overnight bag until she felt Joe's warm finger brush a lock of her hair behind her ear.

"Van? Are you okay sweetie?" Joe sat beside her on the bed and wrapped an arm around her waist.

"Joe, I'm really scared this time."

"I am too."

"Joe Hardy? Scared?"

"Yeah." Joe chuckled lightly. "But really, I'm scared of what we'll run into. I'm worried we won't be strong enough to tackle those things. I'm terrified of what will happen if we're too late to save Frank. What if they'll have already turned him when we get there? Will I have to kill my own brother? Will I have to let him go free, only to turn him lose on the world and kill innocent lives to feed? I don't want to lose my brother Van!

He's always been the brains of the operation, and he's always been there for me. What if there's no humanity left in him and he doesn't even recognize me. I just want him home Van. I want him home and alive and safe…"

"Oh, Joe baby." Vanessa turned into her fiancée's embrace and kissed his check, catching a salty tear that managed to escape. Joe sniffed and wiped his face.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be baby. I love Frank like a brother, and I want him home too."

…..

"Chet! C'mon man, what are you gonna do, move in there?" Biff rapped on the bathroom door.

"I'm raiding the cabinet for supplies, I want to make sure I've got something for any emergency." Chet called from behind the bathroom door. He stepped out of bathroom with his over-stuffed neon orange medical kit.

"You didn't skim enough from work?"

"Shhh!" the redhead hissed.

"Oh come on! Who can hear us?"

"I don't know! You never know who's listening on the other side of the wall!"

"Just because your hearing's amped up doesn't mean everyone's is, ya know?" Biff chided his friend.

"Yeah, but still I could get fired or worse if it ever got out that I raided the hospital pharmacy."

"Well your secret's safe with me." Biff winked. "Besides, can't be any worse that what Buddy's doing. He's got one of his former Navy Seal buddies who's got a friend of a friend that's lending him some sweet equipment like vox devices, night vision gear and an infrared camera. Not to mention some automatic twenty two rifles, they'll hold a hell of a lot more rounds than those pistols of Papa's.

And Alex wrangled some C4 so we can blow the place up after Frank's in the clear. And don't ask me from where or how the twins got their hands on a couple of plasma torches for clearing that door while Joe and Phil are going in through the roof."

"Sounds like everything's coming together." Chet said as he set his medial kit on the sofa.

"Yeah."

"So we're really doing this?" Chet sat down beside his kit. Biff walked over to the cabinet and removed two vials of vampire blood. He handed one to Chet, and then unstopped the other.

"To getting our buddy back." Biff toasted.

"To kicking some vampire ass." Chet replied.

"Cheers!"

…..

"How come you're not at home with your better half tonight?" Old man Hooper asked his grandson as he raided the refrigerator for dinner. Buddy straightened up and carried the leftover meatloaf to the counter.

"Sherman had to pull a double shift at the fire house tonight. A few guys are out with the flu. And besides, why should I spend the evening home alone when I could be spending some quality time with my Papa?"

"You could be spending time with your mom and dad." Alf said as he sat at the farm table while he watched Buddy slice the meatloaf for the two of them.

"I saw them Monday and Tuesday. Had a really good visit, Dad just got that new prosthetic arm, the one with the fingers that move. It's taking some getting used to, but that old one had seen better days."

"He was telling me about that over the phone. Well, when all this vampire mess is over with I'll ride out there, shake his new hand."

…..

Phil sat alone in his bed. His and Frank's bed, he corrected himself mentally, because in less than two days, Frank was going to be back in it. The brunette's scent still lingered on his pillow, Phil had refused to switch out his pillowcase yet when he changed the sheets the other day.

He looked down to the device in his lap. Phil was scrolling through pictures on his smart phone.

A selfie of he and Frank, making kissy-lips at each other.

Frank sitting on the sofa on a Saturday morning, wearing his glasses and sporting a day's growth of beard, hair mussed, reading from his tablet.

Frank with a towel around his waist, skin and hair wet from the shower, a toothbrush in his mouth and a hand thrown out to block the picture.

Phil on Christmas morning, looking overly enthusiastic about the wool socks Aunt Gertrude gave him, a laughing Frank in the background.

Frank, holding the phone's camera at arm's length with a silly, toothy smile on his face.

Phil and Frank, bodies close, holding on to one another during a slow dance at the New Year's Eve Party.

…..

"Just a few more days, and it'll be all over."

"When do you suppose my last "treatment" will be?" Frank sat up in bed, wrapping the extra blanket around his shoulders, coughing and sniffling a little.

"Monday or Tuesday at least." Eric said. "Would you like some more soup?"

"No thanks, brr…" Frank shivered, "Can you turn that heat up?"

"I'll see what I can do, it's already up to seventy five in here." Eric left the room with the tray and the empty bowl of soup.

He was starting to worry about Frank. Somehow he'd managed to catch a cold, despite not having left the house in nearly two weeks. Or maybe that was the problem, Frank needed some fresh air, being cooped up in a stuffy and musty old house can't be good for him. But Eric didn't want to risk Frank taking flight, not that he'd get far in the deep snow.

It would be better if Frank could tough it out until he received his last inoculation, then he'd take him out. Frank's human death would be imminent, and they would have to find someplace Frank could be easily found so that his passing could be recorded and his family could mourn.

Despite their plans, Eric hated seeing Frank miserable with that cold. He knocked on the door of Amy's "boudoir" as she liked to call it. Amy liked to surround herself with pretty things, even pretty smelling things, and Eric knew somewhere she had a collection of essential oils she liked to use in her bath.

"Yes little broer?" came the soft response, Eric opened the door and poked his head in.

"Amy, do you have any of that strong smelling stuff?" Amy smirked.

"And which "strong smelling stuff" are you referring to?"

"It smells like something humans use when they have a cold."

"Eucalyptus?"

"Yes! That!"

"You know, if you just gave Frank a little blood, it would fortify him until the end. I did that for you."

"It's just a cold."

"It's just a cold? His immune system is deteriorating rapidly. This cold mixed with your venom is not good for him. Anemia and blood loss we can fix. Pneumonia we can't."

"I'll keep an eye on him."

"You're worried if he bounces back after drinking your blood he might do something stupid, like maybe trying to escape?"

"He wouldn't…"

"Wouldn't he? Eric, be honest, if not with me but with yourself. Has the boy said he loved you? Has he said he loved you since you raped him? And do you really love him? Or are you just scared of being alone?"

"What the…? Amy what are you saying? You… you helped me get him!"

"Yes, but like you I thought he was on the rebound with that silly human. But look how readily he stopped you from killing him, how he cried out his name while you had him under your enchantment, and look how quickly he started to comply after you threatened to go after him again. I'm not deaf you know. I heard what you said to him. I also hear him crying in the bathroom almost every other night."

"He's just scared. Nervous about what's to come."

"And you're delusional!" Amy spat back. She stood from her settee and walked to her dressing table. Amy picked up the requested bottle of oil and walked over to Eric. She looked into his eyes and cupped his face with her hand, her thumb stroked his cool, smooth skin.

"I love you little broer. I want to see you happy, I really do. I'm just beginning to think that turning Frank into one of us won't truly make you happy. Because you won't have his heart, and you two will drift apart, and you'll both be miserable. Eternity is a long time to suffer like that…" She kissed his cheek. "Put just two drops in his bath water. That's all he needs."

…..

Frank had just about dozed off in his cocoon of blankets when cool lips pressed against his hot forehead.

"I drew you a bath."

"I'm comfy." Frank coughed. He felt the covers pull and tug around him.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm putting your sickly butt in a tub with steamy eucalyptus oil and you're going to breathe it in and hopefully break this fever while you're at it." Eric explained as he unwrapped Frank and hoisted the brunette in his arms. Frank wrapped his arms around Eric's neck and leaned his head on his shoulder.

"You take such good care of me." Frank mumbled drowsily.

In short order Frank was up to his chest in the warm water, the sharp smell cutting through the air as he breathed deeply. Eric took the liberty of scrubbing Frank's back and shampooing his hair.

"You need a haircut, Hon." Eric laughed as he rinsed Frank's hair with the hand shower.

"Maybe I'll get it cut after I'm turned." Frank murmured, but he didn't look at Eric.

"It'll be less awkward to get it done shortly before. You don't want to weird out a human barber with your cold skin. One of the other guys told me to pick something you can live with a long time. Something classic."

"Like blonde highlights in red hair?" Frank teased.

"Now you can color your hair, you just can't cut it anymore." Eric tussled Frank's hair good naturedly and left Frank to soak for a while. The brown haired boy wrung out his washcloth, folded it and settled back in the tub with the rag on his forehead.

Just a few more days… He wondered if there would be any pain, when his mortal death occurred, or if it would be like falling asleep. He kept meaning to ask Eric, Amy or Ezekiel, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Because talking about it would make it more real, more of a certainty. But that didn't stop his mind from creating questions.

Would it be like being in a coma? He vaguely remembered flashes of sensations and voices when he was in that bad wreck years ago. Would he have any sense of awareness while the changes took place? How long would it take him to be found by the authorities? Would his mom, dad, Joe, all of his family be called to the morgue to identify him? Would Phil come? Would he get to feel Phil's fingertips on his skin one last time?

"Frank?" Frank yelped, jumped and splashed in the tub in surprise. That wasn't Eric's voice!

"Ezekiel? What are you doing in here?" Frank tried to cover himself, but the youth was politely looking the other way, holding out a large bath towel with his hands.

"We got trouble, come on and get out, then we've got to go downstairs."

Frank dried off as quickly as his weak body would allow, and dressed in soft jeans and a sweat shirt. He followed Ezekiel down the stairs and to the sitting room. Amy was on her favorite perch on the chaise lounge, Eric was beside her. Others were in the room and Frank was taken aback. Like looking at a living line up of autopsy photos, stood five of the deceased people who had gone missing just before and after Eric was found dead. And in the center of the room, with his back to Frank, was a tall man with whitish blonde hair and muscles that shown through his dress suit. The man turned around and looked Frank up and down before speaking in a heavy accent.

"Frank Hardy, it's nice to meet you again. You're looking… well."


	22. Truth Will Out

Chapter 22: Truth Will Out

Magnus Haraldson struck an imposing figure in the delicately decorated sitting room. He took slow, measured steps toward Frank and held out his hand. Frank took it and politely shook his hand. Magnus then covered Frank's hand with his other, leaning forward slightly, examining Frank.

"My boy, you have the flush of a fever in your cheeks. Have my children not been good hosts?" the whitish vampire asked.

"They've been excellent hosts, Mr. Haraldson. I've just managed to catch a cold. I do every year about this time." Frank said, trying to deflect the vampire's attention away from the state of his health. For all he knew Magnus could have a problem with a coughing and wheezing human under his roof and want to dispose of him sooner rather than later.

But Magnus smiled kindly.

"I believe my Amy may have a tincture or two still in her possession, she has a soft spot for humans. Especially humans who desire to remain so." He raised an eyebrow in the dark vampire's direction. The black woman seemed nonplussed by Magnus' comment, and remained seated as if she held no interest in this gathering. Eric was visibly nervous, his knee bouncing as he popped his knuckles continuously. Apparently some habits never die, even among the undead.

"Eric tells me you have only a few more days and you will join our fold. Yes?"

"Yes sir."

"So, it _is_ your desire to receive our gift of eternity, immortality?" Frank swallowed hard and wavered, he could see Eric's knee still.

"Yes, sir." Magnus' face turned grim. He turned away from Frank and approached Eric and Amy.

"_This_ is what you're risking everything over? One dead undercover officer and six living witnesses? For one who hesitates? He doesn't want to be one of us!"

Frank's eyes widened. Undercover officer, six living witnesses? He couldn't mean…surely…

"Father! Please, Frank does want to be one of us! He's accepting his treatments, he's not fighting me."

"He's under duress! I heard your conversation with Amy when I walked in this evening!"

"No Father!"

"It's bad enough living with one unstable vampire, but couple that with one gone mad with resentment and everything I have worked for…We have worked for, could be gone in one night!" The vampire was seething now, he turned back to Frank. Frank instinctively stepped back, preparing himself for an attack. Instead Magnus snapped his fingers. In a flash two older male vampires grabbed Eric by his arms, holding him still, another approached Frank.

"No! Father, don't! Don't hurt him!"

"Don't worry little guy, I won't bite." The vampire said as he took Frank in his arms. Frank tried to push away, but the other vampire's arms were like steel cables. He leaned forward, exhaling heavily in Frank's face. Frank blinked as the smell of spice and musk cut through his stuffy nose. His head swam and his efforts weakened. After another breath he felt limp and his vision faded…

"Frank?" That voice!

"Frank? Where are you?" Frank felt himself grow warm as he turned to the direction the voice was coming from.

"Phil? Phil, where are you?"

"I'm right here." Frank turned around and there he stood. Frank took Phil in his arms, squeezing as hard as he could.

"Oh my G-d, I thought I'd never see you again!"

"I've missed you."

"I've missed you too, so much!"

"Kiss me Frank." Frank obeyed, gladly. He grabbed either side of Phil's head and pressed his lips, gliding his tongue along the seam. Phil opened his mouth and Frank kissed him deeply. Frank broke away and looked into Phil's eyes.

"I love you Phillip." Phil smiled.

Frank was about to lean in for another kiss when he was ripped from his daydream. The back of his head and back collided with the plaster wall behind him. As he slid down to the floor he could register the feeling of crumbling bits of plaster and dust showering down around him. Frank looked up and saw Eric on top of the vampire who had approached him, pounding his face in. The other vampires stood there calmly, watching the display before them. Amy's arms were crossed, she was staring ahead. Ezekiel was inching his way over to Frank.

"Stop! I said cease!" Magnus' bellow was so loud that even the crystals on the chandelier above them shook and tinkled from the concussion. He strode over to Eric and pulled him up by his scruff. The vampire below him had about three deep cracks running across his forehead and cheek. A female vampire went to his aid, but he waved her off and stood up on his own.

"Have I made my point, dear child?" Magnus said to Eric. Eric's eyes had gone wild and dark red and his whole body shook in his jealous rage. He was panting from exertion, and inhaled sharply. He saw Frank sitting on the floor, gingerly examining the back of his head with his fingers. When Frank pulled his hand away, his fingertips were covered in blood. He glanced up to Eric and found the ginger haired vampire's fangs protracting. The other vampires in the room took on a wilder appearance as well, eyes darkening from blue, brown, green and hazel to dark, dark red in an instant. Amy finally stepped in front of Frank, arms wide and defensive.

"Out, now! Go roll around in the snow and get the scent out of your noses!" She stood firm, arm pointing toward the door. Grudgingly the other vampires left, including Eric. Magnus, Amy and Ezekiel remained. Ezekiel finally sat down next to Frank, but he flinched when the teenager tried to touch him.

"Easy now, just let me look at that." Ezekiel felt around the small gash on the back of Frank's head. "Hold still, okay Frank?" The youth reached over and applied his tongue to wound, licking and knitting the gash with each pass. He sat back a few minutes later, spitting and spewing.

"Phew! Eucalyptus and plaster! Ugh!" He wiped his tongue on the back of his sleeve.

"You go get some A positive, Ezekiel. I'll take him upstairs." Amy bent down and helped Frank to his feet. As she passed Magnus she looked at him boldly.

"That was completely unnecessary, _Father_." She hissed. Magnus said nothing and walked over to the new dent in the wall.

"When you've tucked him in, tell Eric and Charles to run to Lowes... no… Home Depot. I want this fixed before tonight. The rest of the family is coming back from Texas."

"Father!" They all turned to the voice, Charles, the one that had kissed Frank, was standing the in the grand foyer. His clothes were damp from his roll in the snow, but he seemed calmer and more "normal" than when he'd left. "Eric's gone. He ran off."

…..

Amy helped a dazed Frank re-bathe and dress for bed. Frank didn't bother to protest or act bashful in front of the woman. He was too numb and confused by everything that had happened.

Once he was actually tucked in bed, she left momentarily and returned with a glass of cold orange juice. She sat on the edge of his bed and set the glass on the bedside table.

"I'm sure he'll be back. The last time he lost control like this he was gone maybe two days at the most." She assured.

"Does he make a habit of this?" Amy smiled ruefully.

"I had hoped it would stop when you came onboard. That he would at least calm down."

"He never went off the deep end like this when he was human."

"Maybe not on the outside. Unfortunately, that is a vampire's fatal flaw. Their true colors come to light much easier once they've turned."

"Well, apart from being a blood thirsty vigilante, you didn't turn out too bad I guess." If she could have blushed, she would have.

"I told you not everyone could be won over by that charm of yours." Amy sat up straighter. "We need to put some color back in your cheeks." She lifted her left wrist to her mouth and scraped one of her canines along the dark flesh. Beads of crimson blood rose to the surface and she offered her arm to Frank.

"Take a drink." Frank shrank back into the pillows.

"Amy, I'm sorry but I don't think…"

"Drink skinny white boy!" She ordered.

"Yes Ma'am." He accepted her cool arm and brought it to his mouth, he licked the blood from her skin. His stomach began to protest the coppery taste, but Amy urged him on.

"Just a few pulls to replace what you lost downstairs." Frank nodded in comprehension and covered the wound with his lips. After a few sucks he sat back and reached for the glass of juice to wash down the taste.

"You'll acquire a taste for it. It'll be like the nectar of the gods." When he'd finished the juice she took the glass.

"Do you need anything else tonight?"

"Don't think so."

"Then I'm locking your door tonight. I know the other children just ate, but without Eric here you may be just a little too tempting." Frank instinctively reached for his throat with his hand. Amy noticed the gesture and patted his knee. "Well, yes, that too."

…..

Frank managed to sleep until sunset Friday. When he rose, he realized he felt better, stronger, than he had in days. He stood from the bed just as he heard the automatic locks on the shutters and bedroom door release. Frank walked to the window and pulled the shutters away. It had rained during the day, maybe sleeted too. The pristine snowy texture of the grounds below seemed bumpier and uneven. It would have been easier to see if it weren't for the cloudy sky above that diffused the moonlight.

He collected a few personal toiletry items and headed for the bathroom. It was vacant for now. Although he had learned plumbing was a non-issue for vampires, he figured the females still liked to preen in the mirror and take baths. He finished up his business and took a quick bath to get out of the way incase any of the others had some sort of morning routine. As he walked out of the bathroom he almost ran straight in to Charles, the vampire from last night.

Charles stood there, arm resting on the door jamb in a carefree manner. He was tall like Eric. But his jet black hair was long enough to wear pulled back, like he had it last night. This evening he looked like he'd combed through it with his fingers.

"Well, good evening. Frank is it?"

"Eh, yes. And you're…"

"Charles," the vampire supplied.

"Oh. Well, I was just heading back to …"

"What's your hurry, Cutie?" His thumb stroked Frank's freshly shaven jaw. Frank stepped back but Charles moved with him.

"I really need to go downstairs and eat breakfast." Frank's stomached growled just then to emphasize the point. Charles poked out his bottom lip in disappointment.

"Ah yes, the human need to consume carbohydrates and dairy products. I'll tell you what. You go get your belly full and come back and see me. I've got something that'll fill you up too."

Frank started feeling queasy at he vampire's grotesque idea of a come-on. He heard Charles draw in a breath and was about to release it in Frank's face when Charles was suddenly no longer standing there. Instead he was on the floor, tossed onto his backside.

"Lay off Charles. He's marked." Ezekiel warned as he adjusted his glasses on his nose. "C'mon Frank, let's lose this S.O.B."

"Well, if Eric doesn't show his face in a month, I'll start the process over and turn him. He's a hottie." Retorted Charles as he picked himself up off the floor.

"He can do that?" Frank whispered to Ezekiel. The teen nodded.

"Yeah, if Eric doesn't come back to finish your transformation, it'll take about a month or so for his venom to wear out of your system. Another vampire can then begin the inoculations all over again."

"What's stopping him from doing it now, since I only have a few days to go." Not that Frank wanted that.

"The antigens in our venom are very aggressive. If another vampire should inject you with his venom, the antigens would fight each other, and you'd experience something like anaphylactic shock."

"Like an allergic reaction?"

"Bingo."

…..

Eric climbed the brick surface of the old industrial building with ease, fingers clinging to the mortared crevices expertly. When he reached the fourth story window he peered inside. The bedroom he was looking into appeared empty. He scrambled for the area of the den. No. He even checked out the guest room, nothing there but a bunch of computers. It was after midnight, he didn't usually stay out that late.

Eric then moved down one floor to the other apartment. That one was dark and empty too. The girl wasn't even there. A few minutes later he was on the other side of town, checking out the friends' apartment. That proved a futile search as well. Where was everyone? Knowing that bunch the way he did, it seemed very odd that with Frank gone they wouldn't be at home waiting for word on their missing friend.

Eric was attacked by stab of pain that he hadn't felt in two weeks. His rage and jealousy fed his hunger and need for blood. Fine, he'd go look for something outside of Bayport. No need in raising Father's hackles any worse than they already were.


	23. This Is War

Chapter 23: This is War

"Joe?"

"Yeah Phil?" a slightly impatient tone, for a moment Joe wondered if Phil was this chatty in bed with his brother.

"What if we find Frank tomorrow and he doesn't want to go?"

"You mean something like Stockholm Syndrome?"

"Or if he's decided he really does love Eric?"

"I don't think that will be an issue Phil. He loves you." Joe's throat tightened the last memory he had of his brother, desperate and pleading for their safety. He vaguely recalled the foreign words Frank tried to get his little brother to remember. "Before Frank left, he asked me to tell you something."

"What?"

"Annie O'Hev Gotcha."

"_Ani ohev otcha." Phil corrected, but he smiled at Joe's mispronunciation, and inside his heart soared. Frank had remembered Phil's words of love, even at such a dark hour._

"We're gonna find him Phil. I just know it." Joe said as he turned over to face the wall.

"And I know that I'm going to shove this pillow down one of your throats if you don't go the fuck to sleep!" Biff said as he rose up from his cot. Phil snickered and the athletic boy flopped back down in a huff.

…..

Old man Hooper woke the whole house up at two thirty in the morning Saturday. A breakfast of black coffee, steak and eggs, and a double dose of vampire blood had all the men awake and more than fueled up for the task ahead. The twins Chad and Brad loaded up equipment in the back of Alf's truck and snapped the tarp cover shut. Phil and Joe cleaned up the breakfast dishes, Buddy and Biff did a final run through of the guns and munitions to put in the back of Biff's SUV. And Chet and Alex reorganized their medical supplies.

Alf brought a small, delicately carved cedar box down from his bedroom and asked the boys to gather round. He presented each boy with a silver chain that had a cross dangling from it. He stopped when he got to Phil.

"I got a call from an Aaron Cohen this week, he asked me to stop by your dad's store and pick something up for you." He produced a small black box and handed it to Phil.

"God be with you son." Phil opened the box to find a silver chain with a Magen David hanging from it.

"Thank you, sir." Phil said quietly. The older man winked and turned back to the group.

"Now if you boys have no objection, we Hoopers have little ritual we like to perform before we set out for a hunt. Join hands." Biff and Buddy each grabbed one of their grandfather's hands, and clasped hands with their neighbors until everyone had formed a circle around the kitchen table. Alf led them into a prayer.

"The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.

He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.

He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil:

for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.

Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever*."

"Ach tov vachesed yird'funi kol y'may chayoy, v'shavti b'vayt Adonoy l'orecha yamim.*" Phil said as he had followed the prayer in Hebrew.

"Amen." finished Alf. He picked up a small bowl of olive oil that he had poured before the prayer and dabbed his finger in it. Biff and Buddy formed a line and their cousins and guests followed suit. Alf touched each one of them in turn, putting a small dot of oil high on their foreheads.

"This is it gentlemen. This is war." Alf plucked his baseball cap from the nearby hook and led the way out the door.

…..

Frank couldn't sleep. He had turned in considerably early, as the blood he had taken from Amy the night before had worn off. He was feeling very tired, and his cold symptoms seamed to hit him even harder than before the skirmish in the sitting room. He was coughing more and had resorted to stacking pillows behind his back to help him breathe a little easier. Eric certainly wasn't going to need the pillows since he wasn't there.

In additional to feeling physically miserable, Frank had started to feel anxious and panicky. He could deal with Eric being jealous and mad at him over what happened when Charles charmed him into that daydream about Phil. He would even prefer it if Eric were there, taking it out on him. But he fervently prayed that Eric had not run to Bayport to harm Phil, or Joe, or any of his loved ones and friends in his enraged and jealous state.

Frank finally managed to drift off about three in the morning, only to wake up coughing his head off at quarter til six. He could hear a few vampires who had arrived late still knocking around, but it was starting to sound like most were turning in for the day. Frank threw back the covers and crossed the room to the door. Charles seemed to have changed his attitude toward Frank since Ezekiel had flat out warned him not to try anything again. But Frank had a feeling the vampire was placating the teen and biding his time until it looked like Eric was definitely not coming back. However, Frank had asked Ezekiel leave his door unlocked anyway so he could get out if he needed to, since Eric wasn't there to let him out.

He checked in on Ezekiel who was yawning and stretching at his command center.

"Aren't you going to turn in?"

"Yeah, here shortly, as soon as the late-comers turn in. What's the matter, can't sleep?"

"Yep. I wish I had thought ahead and asked Eric to pick up some Robitussin." Frank said with a stuffy nose.

"Amy's supposed to make a run to town tomorrow night, she's out of nail polish. Maybe she'll pick some up at Walgreen's for you."

"I'd appreciate that." He turned to walk back to his room, then stopped. "I just wanna say thanks too, for patching me up the other night. You and Amy have been nothing but kind to me since I've been here. Thank you."

"Well, you're not so bad for a mortal yourself." Ezekiel lightly punched Frank's arm, although to the brunette the force was a bit much.

"Owww...Thanks?"

"Oh my gosh! I'm sorry Frank!"

"It's okay…hey, what' that?" Ezekiel turned to the monitor in question, it was a live feed from the camera over the front door. In the far right, part of the old carriage house could be seen. There was a flickering light coming from one of the windows.

"What on earth? Nothing should be in there but a bunch of junk." He commanded the camera to zoom in closer. "Holy…! Oh my Lord!"

Ezekiel hopped up from his chair and grabbed Frank by the arm, racing to him back to his bedroom.

"Frank, stay here in your room, I've got to get Amy and the others!"

"Ezekiel! What's going on?" Frank asked as Ezekiel pressed a few buttons on the panel by his door.

"The old carriage house is on fire!" With that the door slammed shut and the locks engaged.

…..

"See anything Bud?" Alf asked as he was crouched down beside his oldest grandson.

"I see a shit load of negative heat signatures, must be a family reunion or something. I guess it's bedtime too, most of them have gone horizontal. Oh wow, except for that pair." Buddy pulled his face away from the screen of the infrared camera. "I'm going to have to bleach my eyes after that."

"Quit the funny business and go around to the other end of the house. Lemme know what you see." Buddy nodded and took off for the other side of the mansion.

"Positive heat signature! Second floor. He's stirring." The former Navy SEAL reported back.

"You hear that Joe?" Alf said through the vox device.

"Yes sir. Down here on the southern end of the house?"

"Affirmative. Alex, are you in position at the garage?"

"Yes sir!"

"Light it up!"

"Gladly." Alex had jimmied one of the windows loose. He tossed a Molotov bottle toward the middle of the room, in the thick of the junk and debris, and ran back to his cover with Chet. The carriage house began to glow from within as the fire spread.

"Tell me when you have movement inside, Buddy."

"Roger that." After a few beats he called back. "Movement, second floor. Our positive heat and a negative heat are coming back to the room. Positive heat is now alone. That negative must be raising the alarm. Okay, I have a lot of negatives heading to the back door. Almost no negatives in the front part of the house, either floor."

"Chad and Brad, crack open that front door! Joe and Phil, down the chimney!"

"Down we go!" Joe announced as he and Phil repelled down two of the chimneys. As expected, Phil encountered a sheet-metal pan that served as a flue for one of the fireplaces. He reached into his utility belt and pulled out a battery operated screw driver, loosened the screws and pulled the pan free. He held on to it as his feet finally reached the floor. Phil disentangled himself from the nylon rope and stepped out from under the mantle. He was in what may have been a master bedroom, thankfully the door had been left open from the occupant's haste to leave. Phil tiptoed across the room, and peeked into the hallway.

"Joe, I'm on the second floor."

"I'm on the first, a living room I think. Be up there in a second." Phil could hear Joe's foot falls as he crossed a foyer and bound up the stairs.

"Alright I see you guys on the infrared, target is down on the right." Buddy informed them. The pair followed Buddy's directions and found the bedroom door they were looking for.

…..

Frank could hear his vampire housemates yelling and barking orders to each other, Magnus' voice the loudest of all. Then the voices were muffled. Frank ran to the window that was thankfully still open, Ezekiel must have forgotten to engage the automation for it in his panic. When he looked down on the scene below, he saw total chaos.

The old carriage house was engulfed in flames, almost all the vampires were shoveling and tossing snow onto the building, but it was not doing much good. Some had even started throwing large clumps of snow toward the corner of the house facing the garage, to stymie the flames from igniting the mansion's wooden siding.

The sound of pounding came from his bedroom door.

"Frank!" Joe? Oh no! Was that really Joe's voice?

"Joe?" Frank croaked. He ran to the door but was overcome by a fit of coughing.

"Frank! Can you hear me?" That was Phil!

"I'm coming!" he ground out as he finally made it to the door.

"Bro! It's Joe and Phil, open the door!"

"No! You need to get out of here! Don't you remember the alley? They'll kill you!"

"We brought re-enforcements. C'mon and open the door Frank!"

"I can't! It's locked, it needs a code. You need a long binary sequence, I haven't figured it out yet."

"I'm on it!" called Phil as he wrenched the panel from the wall. He nipped a few wires and then pressed the "Open" button. Nothing happened. He tried a couple more things but all attempts failed.

"We're running out of time! Can I get a plasma torch up here?" Joe called to the twins. Just then he heard a metallic boom.

"Yeah, we just breached the front door." Brad called as his brother kicked one panel of the front door in. In a flash he was upstairs with Phil and Joe, safety goggles on and toting the portable plasma tool. He started on the hinges and worked his way over to the bolts. Brad gave Joe the thumbs up and moved out of the way.

"Frank, you need to back away from the door, I'm gonna kick it open. Okay bro?" Frank had been pulling on extra clothes and a pair of Eric's sneakers. He pulled the broken bracelet from the drawer and stuffed it in his pocket.

"Alright, I'm clear!" he called out.

Frank had been expecting the metal door to simply fall over. He hadn't expected to see the door clear the room with such a force that it crashed into the dresser on the opposite wall, splitting wood and sending splinters everywhere. Frank instinctively raised his arms to protect his face and head. When he lowered his hands, he could barely believe the sight before him. Joe and Phil were dressed in warm clothes, but also bedecked in various weapons and artillery. Maybe this escape really would work.

"Joe? Phil? Is it really…" The blonde boy pulled his brother into a crushing bear hug. Joe's eyes began to sting as he heard the rapid thumping of his brother's still beating heart. Frank started coughing again as the strength behind the hug had knocked the breath out of him. Joe broke from the embrace, alarmed at the rattling of mucus in those lungs.

Phil took that opportunity to reach out to Frank, who he held more gently, but no less fierce.

"You're alive, you're really alive!" Phil sobbed into Frank's shoulder. Frank was a wreck of emotions as well.

"Is it really you Phil? This isn't some trick?" Frank asked in disbelief as he ran his hands over Phil's whiskered jaw, and looked into those honey-toned hazel eyes. He sniffed inelegantly, but he really didn't care at this point.

"It's me baby. Me, Joe, Chet, Biff…"

"Biff? He's alive? He's okay?"

"My G-d Frank, what have they been doing to you?" Joe asked as he took in his brother's appearance. He was thinner and very pale. Frank's skin almost looked waxy and he had deep, dark circles under his eyes.

"Caught a cold." Frank answered nasally.

"There's more than a cold going on here." Joe retorted, but a crackling voice through the vox stopped him from further questioning.

"Of course it's more than a cold! They've been pumping him full of venom! Get him and your asses out of there!" Alf barked.

"We've got negatives coming back into the house." Buddy added.

Phil pulled Frank close to his side and wrapped a protective arm around his waist. He removed a pistol from his holster and clicked the safety off. Frank noticed Joe was wearing a utility belt supplied with several wooden stakes and curved magazines loaded with silver bullets. A tall boy followed them, the powered-down plasma torch in one hand, a semi-automatic rifle supported by a shoulder strap in the other.

They hustled down the stairs. When they reached the grand foyer, Frank saw that Biff was on point, looking out for activity from the hallway that led to the kitchen. A boy who must have been the torch carrier's twin was keeping watch for the other hall. Just as they crossed the foyer, they heard a feminine shriek, followed by the _Pow!_ and _Ting! _of Biff's semi-automatic rifle.

"Step it up!" Biff commanded as he stayed behind to cover their exit. They got out of the door and stepped onto the columned front porch. Frank took a second to breathe in the fresh air, and started coughing again.

"I'll carry you!" Phil said.

"No! I'll slow you down!"

"Nope!" Phil scooped his boyfriend into his arms and ran at the same pace as Joe, running through the deep snow like it was hardly an obstacle.

"How are you doing this?" Frank asked in amazement.

"Save the Q & A for later, okay baby? I promise I'll explain." Phil panted as he ran. Frank looked over Phil's shoulder. He could see the flash of gun fire in the house, the old carriage house was now a ball of flame and the wind was blowing some of the fire onto the eaves.

"We got fire on the roof!" a voice called through Phil's vox device.

"Allen, Chad, get your asses out of there. Alex? On my mark." a gruff sounding voice ordered.

"Copy that!" another answered back. Joe suddenly stopped and aimed his rifle at a distant target. The firearm reported several times and the figure fell. An angry cry rang out across the lawn and several vampires abandoned their efforts with the garage and started running toward the humans.

"Papa! Chad and I are clear!" Biff hollered.

"Buddy, do we have negatives in the house?"

"About five or six."

"Alex, now!" Alex flipped the switch on his detonator and the first in a succession of the C4's went off around the perimeter of the house, blowing out windows and compromising the foundation.

"C'mon boys! Few more yards to the rally point." Alf had no sooner gotten the words out of his mouth when Phil was blindsided. One of the male vampires had come from around the tree line and ran right into him and Frank. Phil lost his hold on Frank and the brunette went skidding along the icy surface of the snow, finally coming to a stop at the base of a thickly foliaged cedar tree. Joe and the others halted and turned to help Phil. Phil had also lost his pistol, but saw that it was just within reach.

A heavy weight was on his back and he sunk deeper into the snow. Cold hands wrapped around his neck, but withdrew just as quickly with a pained screech as they came in contact with Phil's chain. The creature backed away and Joe took the shot. The vampire writhed and then stilled.

Phil scrambled up and looked for Frank, who was clutching his side and being helped up by some kid.

"Ezekiel, get out of here!" Frank looked back towards the battle. A few more humans had run out from the woods and were engaging the vampires. Joe, Phil and Biff seemed to be holding their own against them, even getting the upper hand as the prone forms in the snow began to multiply. And how they were managing that Frank would like to know, but it would have to wait.

"No Frank, we have to get you to safety. Get you away from Magnus! He's going to be seriously pissed after this and he's going to take it out on you, whether you've been turned or not!"

"Don't worry about me! Go get Amy and hide! Get underground, please Ezekiel!" Frank continued to plead until he saw Phil running toward him.

"Run!" he yelled at the youth. Ezekiel gave him a quick hug and in the flash he was gone.

Before Phil could reach Frank, Charles blocked his path, crouched and ready strike. Phil did not want to risk shooting him with Frank directly behind the vampire, so he pulled a stake from his belt and lunged forward. Frank stared in amazement as his boyfriend tackled the creature and they rolled in the snow a bit before they stopped. Phil was on top as he plunged the stake in the middle of the vampire's chest. Charles shrieked and then went limp.

Phil quickly turned around to see more vampires running his way.

"Just stay put!" He hollered to Frank. Frank nodded and pushed himself into the cover of the cedar tree's branches and needles. He felt like a damn coward hiding in the brush, but he noticed the vampires' attack seemed focused oh the other humans. Frank, his weaker mortal form, was not a threat to anyone. He crouched down as the pain in his ribs radiated with each breath. Coughing and battling his congestion sent fire through his entire side. Frank knew a broken rib when he felt one. It must have happened with he hit the cedar tree. Crap!

From his vantage point Frank watched his brother take down one vampire after another in hand-to-hand combat. That had always been Joe's style of fighting. He saw Biff with a stake in each hand, wielding them like swords as he engaged his opponents, felling one and turning around swiftly to take the one behind him by surprise.

There was an older man who looked vaguely familiar in the distance, taking aim and firing into the crowd of vamps. Phil had taken a position behind a burning corner of the mansion to pick off creatures as they ran past. The twins and two more men were in the thick of it as well. Where what Chet? Frank was about to holler to Phil when he saw a female vampire creeping up behind him, but an arrow straight to her skull took her down. That had to be Chet. They must have him laying low somewhere. The vampires that did manage to get their licks in went down quickly. Frank was thankful for whatever miracle had given his friends and brother the incredible stamina to battle these vampires.

Only a handful of vampires remained when Frank saw Magnus and Amy walking slowly through the center of the brawl. He was heading straight toward Joe. But Joe had his back to him, and the others were fully engaged.

"No! Joe, watch out! Behind you!" Frank ran out from the cover of his cedar tree, his left arm supporting his ribs. There was no way Joe could hear him over the cacophony of the fighting.

Magnus grabbed Joe by the back of his neck, and raised him several inches above the ground. Joe scrambled for one of the stakes on his belt but Magnus grabbed his wrist and a loud crack could be heard throughout the grounds at the sound of Joe's wrist breaking. All fighting stopped.

"Where is Frank? Where is the one who has brought this calamity on my home and family?" Magnus called out in a booming voice. Phil saw Frank moving through the snow out of the corner of his eye.

"Frank! No!" Phil yelled to the brunette. But Frank looked at Phil he passed.

"I'm sorry." he mouthed, and continued forward.

A smug and satisfied smile curled across Magnus' white face as Frank approached. Joe continued to claw at the cold fingers on his throat with his good hand. His face was beet red and purpling as he struggled.

"There you are lad." The white vampire said coldly as Frank came within reach.

"Just, put him down. Please, he's my brother…"

"Your brother? So he's a member of your family? Well, your family hasn't held much regard for my family? Now have they?" Even with his hand still on Joe's neck he spread his arms wide. "Look at the death and destruction your family has caused mine! What _you_ have caused. All of _this_ is over _one_ pathetic human."

"That boy hasn't done a damn thing to your brood, you pasty faced son of a bitch! _We_ did!" Magnus snapped his head toward the voice.

There stood the older man, his pistol raised and aimed directly at Magnus.

"My old friend, the slayer, whose name I have never had the pleasure of knowing." Magnus carelessly threw Joe. Such was his strength that it wasn't for several yards until Joe crashed right into Chad, both toppling over into the snow with an audible "Uf!"

"All you need to know is that you've been a thorn in my side for the last sixty years. And that ends today!"

"Such hostility! And it is all misplaced. Don't you see what good we do? We offer people an alternative to the pain and suffering of this world. To live forever, no more disease, no more weakness…"

"Is that the same line of crap you told those P.O.W.'s back in Gusen? Or were you just drawing them out of the camp so you could have an easy feast? I found the bodies. Those weren't the bodies of wannabe vampires. Those poor souls had managed to live through hell and you fucking bleed them dry!"

"Gusen?" Amy looked at Magnus. "You and the children were supposed to be freeing prisoners! Ezekiel and I were in that sticky smoldering hell in the South Pacific helping Americans escape." She turned her attention back to Alf Hooper. "Did you kill my brothers and sisters?"

"Lady I don't know if they were your kin or not. But me and a few others took out all of the vampires that were attacking the camp except this one. This one got away."

"Is this the truth Magnus? You said Lamar, Gillian and the others decided to remain in Europe. They didn't just lose touch, they all died!" Amy was livid. But Magnus did not answer. He looked straight ahead even as she rounded on him.

"We always agreed we would never attack the persecuted. After all we had lived through and witnessed in the course of the centuries we always agreed we would not take advantage of those who could not help themselves." She straightened her back and composed herself.

"That is the last straw Magnus Haraldson. I divorce myself of my union with you." She said calmly. She turned back toward Alf.

"I have no fight with you and yours old man. If you will permit me to go, you will not see me or _my_ children in your territory again. You have my word."

If Alf had learned anything in his years of fighting vampires, it was to know which battles to pick, and when to cut his loses. He gave Amy a curt nod and she turned to sprint away.

Magnus' face suddenly turned into an enraged scowl, he raised his hand to strike Amy, but Frank was just a hair quicker. He reached out and grabbed Magnus' wrist as the female vampire sped off. The vampire patriarch stopped mid-swing and yowled in pain. Magnus flung Frank off of him, and the brunette landed in the snow on his backside, his silver bracelet skittering out of his hand and across the ice.

"You… insignificant insect! How dare you!" Frank tried to scramble away but he was winded and in too much pain as the hard landing had jarred his ribs. Magnus raised the heel of his boot and stomped down on Frank's right thigh, turning and twisting his foot as if he were actually snuffing out the insect he saw Frank to be.

Phil's blood turned cold and his stomach rolled at the sound of Frank's femur cracking below the monster's heel. Joe had just recovered his senses and was being helped up by Chad and Brad. He looked up as he heard his brother's strangled wail of pain.

"No! Noooo!" Joe started to run to his brother the same time Phil raised his weapon and took aim. Before he could get his target sited in he heard the boom, and the monster collapsed where he stood. Alf lowered his still smoking pistol, an unreadable look on his face.

The handful of surviving vampires watched in horror as their father fell. But without their leader, the newborns were without direction. Outnumbered and not wanting to perish as their brothers and sisters had, they turned to run in the same direction Amy left in.

"Papa, should we go after them?" Biff asked anxiously. But Alf smiled as he looked toward the east.

"Wait for it…" he said slowly.

The sun began to peek over the horizon, casting a coral light over the snow covered grounds. The vampires ran madly for the shade of the trees ahead. But even with their inhuman speed, the morning light of the clear day cast down on them, igniting the vampires' flesh and hair. Their blood-curdling screams were deafening, and they stopped in their tracks. The five pillar-like forms were consumed in flame and burned themselves down to ashes.

…..

"Chet, we need you down here!" Alf barked through the vox devise.

"I'm already on my way!" Chet shouted back as he was running from his look out spot.

"Brad, go over there and cover up those ashes in the snow, smooth it out best you can. Chad and Buddy, toss those sorry carcasses into the fire." It was too late to harvest any vampire blood. The early morning light was already taking its toll on the vampires' remains.

"Alex, you've got the stuff?" Alex smiled and reached into his backpack. He pulled out two bricks of medicinal marijuana and tore the identifying labels and plastic off, sprinkling the green herb on and near the fire. The plant was to mislead authorities, to make them think the mansion's destruction was from the carelessness of drug dealers squatting in the abandoned building. That would also help explain away the burnt out computer equipment the fire inspector would eventually find.

Alf walked over to where Phil and Joe were hovering over Frank. The boy looked like death, and he was sweating, regardless of the fact that he was shivering and it was barely twenty degrees even in the morning sun. That leg was broken for sure, or worse, with the blood soaking his jeans where that bastard had dug his heel in. Phil had removed his jacket and had covered Frank's upper body with it. Joe was attempting to do the same despite his broken wrist.

"Lemme help you with that." He helped tug Joe's jacket off and draped it over Frank's midsection.

"Hang on son, help's on the way." Frank didn't seem to hear him, the boy was lost in a world of pain. Phil was in Frank's line of sight, the dark haired boy was rubbing one of Frank's hands between his to keep it warm.

"Ph-Phil, h…how's Joe?"

"He's right here!"

"I'm right here big brother. I'm fine, and you're going to be alright too!"

"You're a h-horrible liar." Frank tried to smile, but he just broke into another painful bout of coughing.

"Easy now, Frank." Chet soothed as he slid in beside Joe. "Hold still while I check you over, okay pal?" Frank nodded stiffly. Chet ran his hands over Frank in a cursory examination, the brunette hissed as the hands ran over his injured ribs. Chet then pulled out his stethoscope to listen to Frank's chest.

"Shit, shit, shit!" The nurse cursed under his breath as he ripped the instrument from his ears.

"What? Chet, how bad is it?" Phil asked urgently.

"Just hang on!" Chet grabbed a pair of medical scissors and cut open Frank's jeans. He ran his hands over the blood-soaked injury, and a scream that ripped through Frank's throat. This was worse than he thought. The obvious deformity of the thigh told him more than he needed to know.

He reached into his bag and pulled out gauze and a pressure bandage.

"Chet?" Joe urged.

"He's got a punctured lung and an open femur fracture, we've gotta get him to an ER a.s.a.p.!" Chet swiftly applied a pressure bandage to the wound to keep out infection and stem the blood flow. Frank gritted his teeth against the pain, but then went still.

"Frank? Oh my G-d, he's going into shock." Chet sped up his work.

"Ph-Phil…"

"Yeah baby?"

"Is tha' the… the sun risin'?" Frank slurred.

"Uh huh, that's the sun." Frank blinked, looked back up to Phil, then back to the horizon. And then he closed his eyes.

Author's Note:

*Psalm 23, vs. 1-6, KJV Bible.

*Ach tov…. – Last verse of "The Lord Is My Shepard" Psalm 23, transliterated from Hebrew.


	24. Hard To Believe We're in Heaven

Chapter 24: I'm Finding It Hard To Believe We're In Heaven

_Frank blinked a few times, his vision was blurry. He didn't really want to get out of the comfortable bed, but the sounds of clinking dishes and the smell of fresh coffee beckoned him. Instinctively he rolled over and sought out his glasses from the bedside table. When the dark frames were on his face he looked around the room. _

_Cool, fresh spring air billowed the white sheer curtains at the window, birds chirped, a wind chime tinkled, and in the distance he could hear the sounds of the neighbor's dog barking. No, this wasn't his Bayport apartment, and this wasn't the vampire mansion either. But he wasn't alarmed, he felt a sense of comfort with his surroundings. Frank climbed stiffly out of bed, limping a little as he reached the en suite bathroom that he somehow knew was to the right of the bed. _

_Frank looked in the mirror, and was stunned by what he saw. His face appeared older, there were a few fleck of grey at his temples. He ran his fingers through his hair and stopped short. Frank pulled the hand away and turned his wrist. A silver, satin-finished band with a familiar scrolling pattern graced his left ring finger. _

_"Boo!"_

_"Ack!" Frank jumped back, his heart beating hard behind his chest. Before him, giggling, was a small girl, maybe four, no she'll be four next month he reminded his self. She had an impish face, long, wavy brown hair and blue eyes._

_"Allison! You scared Daddy." Where on Earth did that come from? How did he already know…_

_"Tatty* said to wake you up, breffix is ready." Frank followed the little girl to the foyer of what looked like an early Art and Crafts style home, with half timbering on the interior walls. She ran ahead along the hardwood floor on her petite bare feet, breezing past a baby boy who looked like he had just started learning to walk. He twisted his little body to holler some infantile gibberish at his sister and then turned back to Frank, raising his arms in the international baby language that meant "Pick me up!"_

_"How are you, Lil' Man?" Frank scooped up the boy and tickled his soft belly. The baby laughed and wrapped his little arms around Frank's neck. Frank followed the sounds of giggling and chatting to the kitchen. There he found Allison, standing on a little stool, helping a man with soft, curly black hair stir pancake batter._

_"Good morning, sleepyhead." said Phil. Phil had changed. His hair was a little fuller, not cut as short as he usually had it. White hairs had started to infiltrate his dark curls as well. Phil had aged too, but those eyes, the same twinkling honey and hazel eyes he fell in love with so long ago had not changed. _

_Frank sat the baby in the high chair and fastened him in. He went to the cabinet and pulled out a jar of oatmeal and grabbed a spoon, all as if those actions were second nature to him. Frank fed the baby, who kept biting down on the spoon, grinning and tugging on it playfully._

_"Looks like David's full of himself this morning." Phil said as he brought Frank a cup of coffee and placed a kiss on his cheek. He set a plate of silver-dollar pancakes on the table, little Allison jumped into her booster seat and started sawing on the stack with a plastic knife. When Phil finally sat down with a plate for himself and Frank, the brunette looked around the table. His heart swelled with love for his husband and their adopted children. This was it, this was Heaven._

…

The lights were blurring and bright, burning his eyes. Frank could see figures moving above him. People were touching his throbbing leg, pressing around on his chest, torturing him. He couldn't breathe, he felt like he had a cinder block resting on his chest.

"Pupils equal, reactive to light."

Frank felt a pinch on his finger. He flinched.

"Responds to painful stimuli."

"Give me twenty cc's of …."

"Blood pressure's still dropping…"

"Where's Walker with that chest tube?"

"I need to get this airway going before we move him upstairs to the O.R.!"

…

_They were in bed, sweaty but sated. Phil's arm was under his neck and their left hands were clasped together. But Frank could tell by his breathing that Phil was finally asleep. He didn't mind, he was watching the way the moonlight played on their matching wedding bands. He kissed the inside of Phil's palm, sat up and tucked the arm back to Phil's side so it wouldn't go numb by the weight of his neck and head. Yet even in sleep, Phil snuggled closer and tossed his right arm possessively over Frank's waist. Frank felt his eyelids getting heavy, and he was so relaxed as he drifted off to sleep._

…

"Alright, on my count, one, two, three, lift!"

"The thoracic surgeon just finished scrubbing in."

"Dr. Barringer from orthopedics will be here in ten, he's looking over the x-ray films now."

"How're you doing up there Alabanza?"

"Preparing the site for the CVC line…"

…

_"Alright Dave, put your feet apart like this, see?" Frank said as he and his son stood behind the tee._

_"Uh huh." acknowledged the sandy blonde haired boy as he concentrated on the tee ball lesson._

_"Keep your hands here and here on the bat, pull back like so…"_

_"Frank, have you seen my keys?" Frank turned to see Phil on the back porch, travel mug in hand, swatting at his pockets for his missing keys._

_"Tatty! We have to be there in thirty minutes." Allison was taller, her hair was pulled up in a bun, and she had on her pink leotard, toting her ballet bag. _

_"Did you check out the dresser?" asked Frank as he straightened up._

_"Nope, didn't look there." Phil went back inside the house. Allison rolled her eyes and followed her father indoors._

…

_Frank felt himself being pushed against the bedroom door. Phil's soft lips covered his, and Frank plunged his tongue in, sweeping around in his mouth like it had been forever since he had explored that sweet, moist cavern. _

_"Don't ever go out of town that long again! I was worried sick about you, missed you so much!" Phil ordered as he moved down to Frank's neck, rocking his hips against Frank's._

_"Where're… Oh G-d Phil! Where're the kids?" _

_"Alli's at a sleep over, Dave's at Joe and Van's with Brian and Christopher." _

_"You didn't… Ahhhh…. You didn't let her drive did you?"_

_"Katie's mom picked her up. Now shut up and fuck me!" _

…

_"Okay, smile!"_

_"Dadddd…." The sandy blonde haired boy whined, but he humored his father with one more pose. The raven-haired beauty on his arm smiled sweetly for the picture. Her teal sequined dress coordinated with David's tuxedo vest and tie._

_"O.M.G. Dave, you look like such a stud!" Allison teased from her perch on the staircase. Her brother scowled, but his date just giggled._

_"You just had to come home this weekend. Couldn't have waited until next weekend."_

_"And miss seeing my baby brother dressed up in a monkey suit for prom? No way!"_

_Phil handed David the keys to his car then Frank pulled his son to the side._

_"Now look, not a scratch on it…"_

_"I know Dad, or Tatty will have a hissy fit…"_

_"In by midnight, and you treat that young lady like the gentleman we raised you to be. Got it?"  
"Yes sir." Frank and Phil waved from the front door, arm in arm, as the teens climbed into Phil's car and drove off to their prom._

_…_

_Phil handed him a glass of champagne and their fingers brushed. After all these years Frank still felt a quiver of excitement over such intimate little things. _

_"She's beautiful." Phil said as he unbuttoned his dinner jacket and sat down beside Frank at the table._

_"She's his." said Frank wistfully._

_"Awe, don't tell me you're getting all sappy over our baby girl getting married." Frank smiled at Phil, but his eyes were a bit watery. He looked back to the dance floor where Allison and her new husband were laughing and dancing to some silly song that was popular when Frank was her age. A slow song started, and David walked up to his brother-in-law and tapped his shoulder._

_"May I cut in?" The groom stepped back and let the young man dance with his sister. Frank rubbed his eyes as Phil squeezed his shoulder._

_"Happy tears?" Frank nodded. He looked at Phil, his hair was almost completely white, but he'd been cutting it short again. Laugh lines creased around his eyes._

_"Well what are we empty nesters going to do now? Grow old?" Phil asked._

_"Grow old together."_

…..

"You found him?"

"Yeah, I got a call from an unknown cell phone… I got Phil to trace the signal. We found him in a seedy hotel room. The son of a bitch had tortured him, left him for dead. I don't know what all he put Frank through for the last two weeks, but we found an emptied bottle of Rohypnol."

"Did you call the local authorities?"

"You're going to kill me, but no. We took him straight to the hospital."

"Joe! You've compromised the scene! We need evidence to get whoever did this to Frank!"

"Dad, Chet was with us, he looked him over and said he would bleed out while we waited for an ambulance. So I collected the bottle of roofies, I'll run tests of my own. Considering the condition we found Frank in, I don't think this needs to go public." It was a weighted statement, with a long silence that followed. But Fenton finally calmed down a little.

"Where is he now?"

"We're here at Center State Medical Center." Joe answered, leaning back in the uncomfortable waiting room chair. "As soon as we got through the doors they whisked him back to the E.R. He was unconscious and having a hard time breathing. Dad, it doesn't look good."

"Your mom and I are getting dressed, son. We'll be there in a couple hours."

"Drive safe Dad, love you."

"Love you too, Joe." Joe ended the call and leaned his head back against the wall.

Hopefully that would be the last fabricated story he'd have to tell his parents for a long time. It wasn't his best work, but it was the quickest explanation he and Chet could think of in their race to get Frank to the closest hospital from Hersher State Park. It was a story that would hopefully satisfy the doctors or any other inquiries that should arise. This indeed was one of those situations where the truth was much stranger than the fiction.

"Family of Franklin Hardy?" An emergency room nurse called out into the crowded waiting room. Joe, Chet and Phil all stood from their chairs as the nurse came forward. "Follow me."

The nurse led them to a family consultation room and asked them to be seated.

"Which of you have power of attorney rights for Mr. Hardy?"

"I'm his brother and next of kin, our parents are on their way." Joe answered, nervous of where this was going. The nurse slid a clipboard to him and a ballpoint pen.

"Would you please sign these forms, they give us permission to perform certain procedures and authorize us to make decisions on Mr. Hardy's behalf." While Joe quickly signed the forms Phil looked to the nurse.

"What kind of procedures and decisions do you need to make?" The nurse glanced at Joe, asking silent permission to relay information to a non-family member.

"Phil is Frank's boyfriend. It's Okay, he's as good as family." Joe nodded as he flipped to the next form.

"Mr. Hardy has lost a significant amount of blood, he will need a transfusion. The open femoral shaft fracture and the rib puncturing his left lower lobe needs to go to surgery now. One last thing, we found evidence that your brother may have been assaulted… sexually assaulted." Phil could feel the blood draining from his face, and Joe's face burned.

"That last form gives us permission to perform a rape kit."

Joe put the pen down and handed the nurse the clipboard.

"I'll have someone show you to the surgical waiting area, it's a bit more comfortable than the one for the emergency room."

The nurse left the boys alone. They were silent for a while, until Phil quietly started to lose it. Chet leaned closer to Phil, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"He's going to be okay Phil…" Phil looked up at Chet, his shoulders shaking.

"Is he Chet? That son of a bitch raped him! And another monster broke his thighbone. H-how is he going to be okay?" Phil stood up and crossed the room to look out the window. The morning sky was beautiful, clear and blue, a mockery of the way Phil was feeling inside. Joe's face was wet when he joined Phil by the window. He turned Phil to him and the dark haired boy collapsed into his arms, sobbing.

"I don't know Phil. I don't know _how_ Frank's going to get through this." He sniffed loudly and held Phil at arms length to look in him the eye. "But I know he _will_. He will because he has us, his family, and he has _you_."

Author's Note:

*Tatty – Yiddish term for daddy is "tatteh"


	25. Vows

Chapter 25: Vows

Joe Hardy had never been accused of being a squeamish person. He'd seen his share of blood and injuries over the years, be they sports related or from his line of work. He'd even toughed it out when Chet popped his wrist back into alignment so that the rapid healing properties of the vampire blood still in his system would allow the bones to knit back together correctly. His arm was still tender, but almost good as new.

However, the sight he beheld just now left him wanting to run to the nearest bathroom and relieve his queasy stomach. He tried to inhale and take a few calming breaths, but that antiseptic hospital smell filled his nose and his stomach won out.

"I'll be right back." He squeaked to Phil and practically ran from the room, almost upsetting a nurse with a tray of food for another patient in his race to the restroom.

…..

Fenton, Laura, Gertrude and Vanessa arrived exactly two hours after Joe hung up with his father earlier that morning. Another three hours of pacing and waiting in the surgical waiting room passed before a nurse led the way to a different family consultation room. All four Hardys, Phil, Chet and Vanessa crowded in to hear what the nurse and doctors had to say.

Dr. Miller, a small man with salt and pepper hair and bottle-thick glasses was pleased to report that the rib that had punctured Frank's lower left lung tissue had been re-aligned successfully and the lobe had re-inflated. However, the pneumonia that had set in was very much still a concern. Because of the level of pain medication Frank would be on to manage his leg and the fact that he would need to remain flat on his back for some time, it was best for Frank to remain intubated for the time being. A respiratory therapist would come in and attach a nebulizer to Frank's breathing tube twice a day to administer the needed medicine to clear up his lungs.

Dr. Barringer was less cheerful. He dove right in with the fact that because Frank's blood pressure and pulmonary function were already compromised, he was unable to perform the complete reconstruction of Frank's femur. Instead, he had to perform a temporary external fixation, a bar and screws would be visible on the outer part of Frank's leg. A second surgery would be in order once Frank was stable enough to endure it.

"Your son is in for a long recovery, six to eight months at least. That will include physical therapy, but I hope to have him moving that leg as soon as possible after the second surgery."

"When can he be transferred to Bayport Memorial?" Laura asked as she nervously wrung a hospital brochure between her delicate hands.

"Not until after the second surgery, I want to oversee that myself. Then I'll turn his case over to Bayport Orthopedic Associates, Dr. Hamner is an excellent surgeon to consult for your son's follow-up care."

The family and doctors exchanged parting pleasantries and set off for the Intensive Care Unit waiting room. Another hour and a half passed before the family was allowed to see Frank, only two at a time. Fenton and Laura returned to the waiting room after twenty minutes, pale and shaken from their visit.

Joe and Phil went next, and it was more than Joe could take. This wasn't the first time Joe had seen his brother in a hospital bed, but it was by far the worst he'd seen. He had been warned about the ventilator, and he thought he knew what to expect based on the diagram Dr. Barringer had sketched out of the external fixation. But actually seeing it was another story altogether. A circular metal framework supported the pins and bars that kept Frank's thigh straight. Although gauze pads covered and protected the pins' entry sites, the extensive bruising and yellowy-orange flesh from the Betadine wash made Frank's leg look just…wrong, unnatural.

Joe noticed a bag clipped to the bed's frame. Of course, Frank had been catheterized as well since he wouldn't be going anywhere soon to take care of that. Joe approached the bed to touch his brother's hand, and noticed both wrists were secured with soft restraints, obviously so if he woke up he wouldn't pull or tear at anything. The lack of an I.V. on either wrist became apparent, and Joe's eyes traveled up to a pole where several bags of various medications, the transfusion blood, and saline, all bottle-necked into one line, attached to Frank's neck. That was the cherry on top, and Joe speed from the room as fast as he could.

Alone, Phil pulled up a chair. He tried not to focus on the gory details and the beeping and pulsing machines surrounding Frank. Phil took Frank's cool hand in his, and gazed at Frank's pale, peaceful face.

"I guess it's just you and me right now." Phil tried to gather his thoughts as he stroked each finger, and traced the lines of Frank's palm. "I'm going to call work tomorrow, going to take a leave of absence until you're out of the woods. And if they don't like it, then fuck 'em, I'll quit. I'll help Dad at the store when I can until you're better, then I'll look for something else. But I'm going to be here for you, every step of the way." He reached up and brushed a lock of hair that had to be tickling Frank's eyebrow. Frank looked so young and vulnerable lying there.

"You did what you had to do to protect us, to protect me. And you've paid a high price for our protection. But you did not deserve what that bastard did to you. Don't think for one minute that I won't love you or want you because he touched you and treated you that way." He lowered his head and kissed the back of Frank's hand, and pressed his forehead against the cool skin.

"I don't know if your ears can hear me, but I hope your heart can. I've had a lot of time to think while you've been gone. You are my past, my present, and I want you to be my future. I want to make a home with you, maybe in a few years we can adopt, have a little family. I want to grow old with you. So, you need to get well, get up and walk again. Go back to work, to what you love and what you do best. And I vow to be here, to support you and to love you."

"You really mean that?" Phil popped his head up and turned around. Joe was leaning against the door's frame. He still looked a little green.

"Every word."

"I'm going to hold you to it." Joe sank into a chair on the other side of the bed, out of view of the medical apparatus' that had unnerved him earlier.

"Can I make a confession Phil? When Frank first came out to me, I was more worried about him and his future, than upset because my brother was gay. I saw the way gay kids at school got teased and pushed around. I read the headlines about hate crimes and protesters. Society isn't always very kind to homosexuals, even in this more enlightened age we think we live in. I didn't want him to have to go through all of that. I just wanted him to have a happy life, like what I had envisioned for myself.

It's been really hard to watch him go through his relationship ups and downs, or to see people treat him differently when they realize he's gay. And I'll admit, there are some things that a straight brother just can't wrap his head around. But I'm glad that he's had you to lean on, and I'm glad you two are together now. You've made him very happy, and that's what Mom, Dad and I want for him."

"So…when the time is right, do I have your blessing?" Phil asked with a half smile. Joe chuckled at his friend.

"Well, if you're going to be all formal about it, I suppose I'm not the one to ask. You'll have to go to Dad and Mom. But if I could speak for them, then I'd say yes."

…..

The hikers shelter collapsed beneath the weight and the force of the man thrown into it. He sat up, dazed and covered in wooden splinters and snow.

"You will not touch him!" Amy said as she loomed over the man before her. Ezekiel sat on the top of the wooden picnic table as the drama before him unfolded.

"He only needs two more inoculations and he'll be turned!" Eric pleaded as he stood up, shaking the debris from his clothes.

"It's too late! By now he's probably received enough donor blood to dilute any of your venom that was in his system."

"Then I can start over…"

"Enough!" Amy took a moment to compose her self before she spoke again. "He is lying in that hospital, broken, because he tried to save me. He saved Ezekiel, instructed him to run and get away from his human friends. And where were you? You were responsible for his impending transformation. He was supposed to be under _your_ protection.

So, where were you while the humans were freeing him and your brothers and sisters were being attacked? You were out there pouting like jealous lover looking for that silly boy. And to do what? Kill him? Kill an innocent life out of jealousy because you just cannot handle the truth? Tthat deep down Frank Hardy had fallen out of love with you a long time ago and his heart now belongs to another. That his beating human heart loved his friends and family so much that he endured your abuse just to protect them."

Amy stepped away, looking down the hill to the charred remains of the Hersher Estate. Amy was not sad or angry for the loss of her pretty things. For someone who had come up from nothing, she had acquired enough liquid assets to start over again, the same for Ezekiel. But her heart was heavy. She mourned the loss of her brothers and sisters, of Magnus… The knowledge of Magnus' betrayal was like a double edge sword in her heart.

But Magnus was right about one thing, she did have a soft spot for humans, humans who wanted to remain human. Frank never truly wanted this. And despite everything he was put through, he'd seen Ezekiel spared and her own life as well. If Eric had been there, he probably would have tried to find a way to save him too.

"I know I promised the slayer that I would not remain in his territory, and I will not hunt nor try to breed from this area. But I will have to amend our agreement. Because as of now, Frank Hardy's mortal life is under my protection."

"No!" Eric yelled, "You can't do that!"

"I can. It is now so. You may not touch Frank Hardy. The same goes for his lover." Eric lunged for Amy, but Ezekiel hopped up from the table and clothes-lined Eric with his arm before Eric got within a few feet of her. Ezekiel then stood beside Amy and looked down on his younger brother.

"I'm sorry Eric." The youth cleared his throat. "The mortal lives of Frank Hardy and Phil Cohen are under my protection."

"No…No!" Eric kneeled over in the snow, shaking and weeping. He rose up and looked at the pair one last time before he sprinted into the dark forest.

"You realize he'll try to find a loophole."

"I know." Amy said sadly.

…..

Alf Hooper oversaw his grandsons and cousin's children covering up as much of the Hersher Estate battle as possible. He was tired, had been feeling tired for months now. But he was going to be eighty nine this fall, what did he expect? He was quiet on the ride home, actually nodded off until Biff woke him when their party arrived at Buddy's parents' house.

It was lunchtime and Benny's wife had anticipated their arrival. The Hooper hunters usually stopped by for a big breakfast or lunch after a long night of slaying. Alf pushed his food around on his plate, he had a lot on his mind. His thoughts traveled back to the last moments of the battle, when he should have taken the shot and killed that white faced devil then and there. But his reflects had been slowing down, he wasn't quick enough and the boy who they had been trying to rescue got hurt anyway. Damn.

Joe had called Biff on the ride home to give him an update. They were all relieved that Frank was going to live and eventually recover. Alf even promised to stop by and meet Frank when he was transferred to Bayport Memorial.

Buddy and Biff each gave their grandfather a bear-hug goodnight, and set off for home. Old man Hooper went through the now empty house, grumbling a little at the mess all those whipper-snappers made. It sure was good to have a house full though, it reminded him of when Al and Benny were young.

When he finally retired for the night, and closed his daily devotional book, he picked up a picture frame from his nightstand. It was a picture of him and Marjorie from their wedding day, he was in his crisply ironed army uniform, she was in an ivory skirt and jacket, with a fox stole around her neck that she had borrowed from her sister.

"Good night sweetheart." He said, he then set the frame down and turned out the light.

His eyes snapped open to the sensation of someone slapping him on his back.

"Wake up Hooper before all the pretty ones are taken." Private Ackerman said cheerfully as he walked past. Alf watched as the other young soldiers lined up to exit the bus that had brought them to the ball.

"Oh, this dream again." Alf said to himself as he stood up and got in line to relive this memory. He stepped off the bus and was joined by his best friend Smitty. Smitty was going to die in a month, he didn't know that of course but Alf would remember watching the light leaving his eyes on the battlefield somewhere in France. They walked together, laughing and talking until they entered the ballroom.

There was something different about the dream tonight, because as soon as Alf walked into the ballroom the swinging music of the band stopped. Everyone who had been seated at a table stood, and the thunder of applause began. Well this was certainly different. He turned to Smitty, but his friend just smiled broadly and motioned for Alf to walk in the direction of the bandstand.

Slowly he walked down the path that was being cleared for him. He first saw his brother Biff, which didn't make sense because he should still be in high school, but there he stood, tall and muscular wearing his own army uniform. Then he saw his mother and father, he saw faces that weren't associated with this memory that he had met over the years. He saw his son Al standing there, as intact as when he last saw him. And then there was Marjorie.

This part of the dream had not changed. She was still as beautiful as the day he met her, her auburn hair pinned up in victory curls, wearing her brand new powder blue dress. But instead of waiting shyly by the punch bowl for Alf to come up and ask her to dance, she ran to him. Marjorie threw her arms around his neck and the crowd broke into another round of cheer and clapping. She kissed him and the sensation took his breath away.

"Darling, I've missed you." She said when she broke away.

"Oh, Sweetie, I've missed you too."

The noise of the crowd faded as she took his hand and led him to the band stand. The band leader, whom Alf had a hard time seeing for the glare of lights that surrounded the figure, gave him a slight bow and stepped aside. The ballroom filled with a brilliant light, and Alf and Marjorie walked forward, hand in hand.


	26. An Unholy Alliance

Chapter 26: An Unholy Alliance

Frank had been pulled out of heavy sedation on Tuesday morning. By dinnertime the same day Phil wished the doctors would put him back under. The first time he saw Frank's chocolate brown eyes open they were filled with pain, and he'd found precious little relief since.

Thursday rolled around and Frank was able to stay awake and alert for longer periods of time. Dr. Barringer had allowed him to have a morphine pump to give Frank a little control over his pain management.

"Babe, you can only hit that morphine pump so many times an hour. Okay?" Frank laid the button down on the mattress with a solid _thump_.

"I know you're frustrated and you're hurting. But just think, they might be able to take you off the vent tomorrow." Frank rolled his eyes, then he squinted as he tried to focus his attention on the clock on the wall.

"What are you looking at?" Phil turned around and noticed the time, he still had thirty minutes before the ICU nurse would shoo him out of there. Then it dawned on him.

"You've got forty five minutes before the pump will work again." Frank closed his eyes.

"Babe, I've got to tell you something. I'm going home tonight, you're dad's going to ride up in the morning and visit with you and your mom." Frank opened his eyes at that.

"Joe, Chet and I are going to Biff's grandfather's funeral." Frank's eyes widened. More than likely Frank didn't remember much about Alf Hooper's help, or the fight and flight from the vampires Saturday morning. But that story could wait for another day.

"He died in his sleep, Biff found him Monday morning when he didn't answer his phone all day Sunday. Biff's taking it pretty hard." He could see the sadness in Frank's eyes, he was sure if he were able, he'd want to be there for Biff too.

"Would you like for me to bring you anything back from the apartment?" Frank used his right index finger to scribble into his left palm.

"Writing…writing pad…writing tablet…tablet! You want your tablet?"

Frank blinked once.

"Okay. Your glasses too?" Another blink, then his eyelids began to droop. Phil knew trying to stay awake and bear through the pain was exhausting for Frank, and there was no use in making him feel like he had to stay up for his sake.

"Alright Babe, I'm going to head home. Your mom will be here at the next visitation." He leaned over and kissed Frank's forehead. Frank grabbed his hand and squeezed it, and placed it on his chest.

"I love you too."

…..

"Present arms!"

The three volleys of musketry boomed overhead. Phil didn't care what faith you were, there was something about military funerals that always choked him up. Biff had been holding up well, but by the time the mourners had reached the graveside, the cracks were starting to show. He had positively broken down when the first strains of "Taps" began to play.

At the luncheon held in St. Luke's social hall afterward, Joe, Tony, Chet and Phil finally got to catch up with Biff.

"I'm so sorry about Alf, Biff. I never got to properly thank him for helping us find Frank." Joe said as he poked at the ham biscuit and macaroni salad on his plate.

"He knew you were grateful. And he'd tell you in a heart beat he was glad to do it. That's just the way he was." Biff sighed and pushed his plate away.

"Are you going to continue hunting?" Tony asked.

"You better believe it!" Biff actually smiled.

"Well, if you ever need any help with a hunt, we'll be there for you. Your being a slayer brought my brother back to us, I don't think I'll ever be able to repay you for your help." Joe said earnestly. Biff sat back with a cocky grin on his face.

"Joe Hardy helping _me_ with a case. I could get used to this."

…...

Phil was winding up the charger cord for Frank's tablet to put in his messenger bag Friday night when he heard a knock on the apartment door.

"Coming!" Phil peered through the peep hole and immediately flattened himself along the side of the wall. His heart was going to pound out of his chest and he was trying to inch his way toward his phone.

"I mean you no harm Mr. Cohen, I only wish to talk to you." Phil checked his neck. Yep, the silver chain was still there.

"What do you want?" Phil asked, his voice squeaking nervously. He hadn't bothered to drink anymore vampire blood since the battle Saturday, he wasn't sure if he still had it in him to take this one down.

"I would prefer not to discuss our business out here in the corridor." the black woman on the other side of the door said.

"I would prefer not to die."

"You can start by calming down. I am not able to break down the door to your home. I cannot even enter your apartment unless I am invited in."

"That's not very comforting, considering what may happen if I try to leave."

"Will it ease your mind to know that your and Frank's mortal lives are under my protection?"

"_Your_ protection? Protection from what exactly?"

"Eric Langhorne."

…..

Phil nerves were fraying by the second. He had just attended the funeral of a vampire slayer earlier that day, and now a vampire was sitting on his sofa. Something was definitely wrong with the world.

"Can I, offer you something to drink?" Phil asked, and immediately regretting asking such a stupid question. Amy gave him an amused smile, but shook her head.

"I'm quite satisfied, thank you."

"I had sort of hoped Eric had been blown up in the explosion, I take it that's not the case."

"Fortunately for Eric, he had left the premises more than a day before. He was looking for you."

"Me?"

"He was in a pique of jealousy. If he had found you, he would have tried to draw you out of your apartment and kill you." Phil paled at the information.

"How can I be sure you're not here to finish the job?"

"Like I said before, you and Frank are under my protection."

"Well, if you don't mind my asking, how did we receive such an honor?"

"Your lover Frank is a very unique human. I have encountered very few like him in almost four hundred years. Despite the way Eric treated him during his captivity, when you invaded, he made sure my child was safe and he saved me from Magnus' wrath."

"Yes, I recall that last part. That's what's landed him in the hospital, we're not even sure if he'll ever walk again." That last bit was an exaggeration, but Phil was in no mood to sugar coat things to spare this creature's feelings.

"All the more reason for you to accept my help. I am indebted to him. It is a rare thing for a vampire to be shown such kindness by a human, even more so to owe a human their life."

"Yeah, it's one of Frank's character flaws." Phil snapped. Amy sighed, reached into her clutch purse and pulled out a folded piece of parchment.

"I am sworn to your protection, it is final. No harm will come to you from my hand. And because I declared such in Eric's presence, he cannot touch you or Frank either, at least not directly. Eric knows where you and Frank live, of course. You need to move."

"What? No! Frank would never want to leave Bayport, his family's practice is here, and we have roots here."

"I never said that you needed to leave Bayport, although that would be ideal. I am saying you need to move from this apartment, and soon. This is the deed to a house east of here…"

"We don't need your charity…"

"This is not an act of charity…"

"Then what it it?"

"You know, I simply cannot understand what Frank sees in such a stubborn…"

"You know nothing about Frank or me…"

"Will you just shut it!" Amy boomed and stood from her seat. "Mr. Cohen, this deed has an enchantment on it. I had an associate of mine draw it up. No creature will be able to catch your or Frank's scent within a ten mile radius of this house, and the enchantment will disorient anything while it is in the area. That radius encompasses your offices as well." She handed the parchment to Phil. When the form was in his hands everywhere his skin came in contact with it began to tingle. He looked up to Amy with a quizzical look.

"It's the enchantment."

"Vampires can enchant objects?"

"No, that's the work of witches."

"Oy vey." Phil quickly dropped the parchment onto the coffee table. "I'm sorry, Miss…"

"Johnson."

"Miss Johnson. I've had to absorb a lot of information in the last three weeks. It's getting to be a bit much."

"I was born in an age when believing in the existence of such things was not nearly as incredible as it is today. You are a smart man, Mr. Cohen, but you have so much more to learn." Amy pulled a small envelope from her purse and set it on the coffee table.

"The keys to the house. I don't know where Eric is now, but Ezekiel and I have not been able to detect his scent anywhere in Bayport, or between here and Center State Medical. I am hoping he is in a warmer climate cooling his head. I would suggest you make your move soon."

"I haven't said yes to any of this yet."

"You will. Drop by the house in the morning before you head for Center State, my associate will give you the tour."

"The same associate who drew this up?" Phil asked lifting the parchment.

"Yes."

"Even if I did agree to all of this, and I'm not saying that I am, how am I supposed to explain the sudden move to our friends and family?"

"As I said, you're a smart man. You'll figure something out." Amy buttoned her coat and headed for the door. "By the way, the house is also conveniently located a mile away from a highly acclaimed physical rehabilitation center."

…..

"Baywood Drive? Well that's a swanky part of town." Joe commented as Phil drove to the address on the deed.

"Yeah, I figured the apartment wasn't going to be the ideal place for Frank to convalesce. The distance from the parking garage to the main entrance, down to the elevator… Then negotiating a wheelchair or crutches around that narrow apartment… And with what we were discussing the other day..."

"Okay, okay! You don't have to sell me on the idea." Joe smiled. "Whoa!"

Phil pulled the car into the driveway of a nineteen twenties Craftsman bungalow.

"Well, this is nice." Phil said nervously. Oh G-d, what had he gotten himself into?

A young woman with long, straight red hair and a plethora of freckles on her face hopped merrily from the front porch onto the sidewalk.

"Mr. Cohen? Hi there, I'm Bridget Hayes with Wicker Trail Realty. How are you this morning?" This woman was way too chipper for eight o'clock in the morning, on a Saturday.  
"I'm good." Phil shook the woman's hand and followed her back up to the house.

"This is a lovely four bedroom, two and a half bath Arts and Crafts with formal dining, eat in kitchen…" Phil and Joe let her prattle on as they looked over the house.

"Can you seriously afford this?" Joe hissed. "And four bedrooms? It's just you and Frank."

"I could turn one into an office." Phil shrugged.

"Actually there's a room that can be used for an office just down the hall here." Bridget pointed out. "And the master bedroom with a spacious bath is on the first floor."

"See Joe, its perfect. Wide open spaces, first floor master so Frank won't have to go up and down stairs. Nice neighborhood so he can walk around and get his strength back…"

"And a back yard!" said the woman from the French doors that led out to a pergola covered patio. "You two come on and check it out!" Joe put his hand on Phil's arm as he started to follow Miss Hayes.

"Seriously Phil… You take forever to make decisions, this just seems awfully sudden. I don't want to see you biting off more than you can chew." Phil nodded in comprehension and Joe followed the realtor outside.

"Oh, if you only knew."

…..

"One tablet, fully charged."

"Thanks." Franks said in a raspy voice as he was handed his lifeline to the world.

"And, tah dah! Glasses!" Phil handed his boyfriend the glasses, Frank accepted them gladly and tried to adjust the earpieces under the tube for the nasal cannula. He blinked several times as the world came back into focus.

"Oh lord! Phil, could you do me a favor and drape that sheet over my leg?"

"What? That is one sexy leg there."

"Phiiiilllll…." the brunette whined. Phil covered the injured leg and came around to the other side of the bed and sat on the edge.

"So, going back under the knife Monday huh?"

"I'll be glad to get it over with. Doc said we'd start the physical therapy as soon as possible."

"Now don't go getting ahead of yourself Babe. I thought he said we'd get the leg moving from where your knee has been in one position for over a week. He didn't say anything about putting weight on it yet. This next surgery is going to be a lot more invasive than the last one."

"I've just got to get up and out of this bed. This flat on your back business is for the birds!"

"Now you're starting to sound like your old self."

Frank chuckled then grew solemn.

"What's wrong Babe?"

"Hmm, my old self." Frank said. He turned his head to face the window. "They got the results in from the rape kit."

"And?"

"I'm clean. Of course, little do they know vampires aren't afflicted by, nor carry, S.T.D.'s. Although from the evidence they found, I have, at least in the last two weeks, been a victim of a sexual assault. I thanked the doctor very nicely and told him to leave."

"Frank, baby…"

"They're going to send a therapist down to start talking to me next week when I'm out of ICU and on the orthopedic floor."

Phil scooted closer to his boyfriend, but Frank stopped him.

"Could you…" Frank patted the mattress. "Could you lie down next to me?"

Phil arranged himself so he was lying on his side in the space between Frank and the edge of the bed. He gently rested his hand on Frank's chest over his heart. Frank wove the fingers of his right hand with Phil's.

"It's a nice day out, isn't it?" Frank said wistfully.

"Yeah, it might actually get up to thirty degrees today." Phil laughed.

"But the sun's out." Frank said. "It's beautiful."


	27. Day by Day by

Chapter 27: Day by Day by …

"That's it Frank, two more reps and we're done for today." The cheerful physical therapist encouraged as Frank bent his knee with her help. His hair was damp and sweat trailed down his temples from the effort. Frank had not realized how weak one could feel after being nearly immobile for three weeks.

The second surgery had involved the insertion of a titanium rod into his femur and intramedullary nailing to keep the bone fragments in place. The good thing about the latest surgery was at least the external braces and screws had been removed. The downside was it had set his recovery back well over a week. Frank's pneumonia had relapsed, he had to be re-intubated and the respiratory therapist had been called back in with the nebulizer. His compromised immune system slowed down the healing process, and his physical therapy was put on hold until he was stable again.

This day marked his second physical therapy session, and it had been brutal. Who knew lying on a cushioned bench and bending one's knee with assistance could be so taxing? But Frank, in true form, was pushing through, and not complaining.

"Way to go bro! You'll be ready to dance at the wedding in no time!" Joe smiled as he watched on.

"Don't you have some witnesses for that embezzlement case to interview?" Frank grunted as he finished the last rep. As happy as he was for his brother's upcoming June wedding, the last thing he wanted to think about right now was whether or not he'd be able to walk unaided, much less dance, as he stood up for his brother. Before Joe could answer, the therapist interrupted with praise for the successful session.

"Excellent work today, Frank. Tomorrow we'll do a few more exercises and maybe a little upper body too." The therapist helped Frank sit up and move over to the wheelchair.

"You didn't answer my question Joe."

"I got in touch with two of them yesterday. Good grief, I could beat Phil for giving you your tablet back."

"When you're back in Bayport tomorrow, Judge Harris has that search warrant ready for the storage building …"

"Frank, I've got this! Why don't you just concentrate on getting better and let Dad and I handle things until you're on your feet again." Joe bit his tongue as he realized what he'd just said. Frank stared straight ahead and did not speak until they reached his room on the orthopedic floor, and even then he seemed to have all but shut down.

"Bro, I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking about…"

"Hey, it was just a slip of the tongue. Look, I'm really worn out. I think I'll catch a nap before they bring dinner around. Okay?" Frank pulled the covers up to his chest and lowered the head of the bed. Joe sighed, when Frank was in one of those moods, there was no reasoning with him.

"Alright Frank, I'll head on home. See you Saturday, Okay?"

Frank nodded and closed his eyes. Joe kissed his brother on the top of the head and left the room. As he approached the bank of elevators he met Phil stepping off onto the wing.

Since Frank had finally come out of ICU Phil and Laura had been taking turns with Frank, Laura had the daytime while Phil slept in the hotel room, and Phil took over in the evenings as Mrs. Hardy did the same. It was for the best, really, Frank was not sleeping all through the night, even with the benefit of the painkillers. Fenton and Joe were alternating coming up to Center State Medical every couple of days to give Phil and Laura some needed relief.

"Evening, Phil."

"Hey, Joe. How's our favorite patient this afternoon?"

"Fine until I opened by big mouth. But he had a good P.T. session just now."

"Great. How about the psych?"

"He wouldn't say."

"No surprise there. Did Mama Hardy say what time she'd be back tomorrow?" Joe snickered at Phil's term of endearment for Laura.

"About ten if that's okay with you. She's gone decorator crazy ever since you bought the house and she wants to stop by Target to buy some curtains for your bedroom. Phil rolled his eyes.

"You two still haven't said anything to Frank about the house have you? I want it to be a surprise." Phil really wanted to say "I don't want him to argue about moving until it's too late for him to do anything about it." He hated not telling Frank about the house on Baywood yet. But he fully intended to tell him about Amy and the enchanted deed, once he had Frank safely in the house.

…..

"No…No Stop! You're hurting me stop! STOP!" Phil's laptop clattered onto the floor as he hopped up from the cot and turned on a dim light over Frank's bed.

"Frank, Babe? Its okay, you're with me, Phil. You're in a hospital. Baby wake up." Phil ran a washcloth under the tap and wrung it out. He gently wiped Frank's forehead and cheeks, hoping the coolness would help him wake up. Frank was still shaking, but he calmed down, then he groaned.

"My leg h-hurts."

"I'll buzz the nurse, the doc wrote an order for pain killers, would you like that instead of the Motrin this time?"

"No, Motrin's fine."

"You know, I've done some checking, and they don't pass out medals for bravery here. Please Baby, take something to really knock out that pain."

"No, just the Motrin."

"Alright, Frank. But can you please tell me why…"

"The drugs, they make the dreams more… more real, more vivid. It's harder… to wake up from them." Phil used the washcloth to catch the moisture escaping the corners of Frank's eyes.

"I'm so sorry Frank."

"Wonder when I'm going to be able to close my eyes and not relive what happened, have those dreams." Frank took the washcloth from Phil's hands and scrubbed his face.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Frank left the rag on his face for a second longer.

"No." was the muffled reply.

"The therapist told me it might help if you talked about it. I won't press, you can tell me when you're ready. You've always been able to talk to me."

"I don't know if I can talk about this. I… I don't want you to think differently about me."

"I don't think I could ever feel anything other than how I feel for you right now."

"It's not that simple. And I'm having a hard enough time talking to the therapist about it because some of the things that happened, I know she won't believe me because they were… I dunno, that vampire charming thing. I can't tell her about that."

"So tell me. I'm in the vampire and all things supernatural loop, give me a shot." Frank gave a resigned sigh and tried to shift in the bed.

"If I'm going to talk to you about it, get down here with me. The hovering makes me feel like you're a doctor expecting answers." Phil grabbed his pillow from the cot and squeezed in next to Frank.

"Okay?"

"Yeah."

"So, what …"

"They tricked me a few times. They've got that breath of theirs, it makes you smell what you want to smell. Or, what ever turns you on. I would smell your aftershave and your cologne. And it was like I was in a trance. I could feel someone touching me, kissing me. I thought it was you. When he spoke, it almost sounded like you too. And we were making love, but somehow it felt different, you were being rough, and that's not like you. You, or he, said he loved me, and I told you that I loved you too. I called out your name.

And that's when you… he hurt me. That's when he bit me and he raped me, there was so much blood, and I hurt so bad. My arms, they were chained up, and he was so strong and I couldn't fight him. I just thought I was going to die, that he was going to rape and torture me until the end came." Phil gently slid a protective arm around Frank's waist.

"Later, he came back, offered me food, he was trying to be nice, but I just wanted him to go away. I snapped at him, and that's when he threatened you. I… couldn't let him get to you, or my family. But he threatened to kill you, and I ... So I went along with whatever he wanted, I even led him on. But all I could do when he put his hands on me was to think about you and try to stay quiet so I didn't say your name. I couldn't control my own body sometimes, and when that would happen I felt like I was betraying you." Frank wiped his face off with the washcloth again. Phil's eyes had long lost the battle to hold back the tears.

"I even got the idea that I could trick him into not having sex with me for a while. I gave him a blow job, and he lost control and I couldn't breathe, and I almost drown. And I remember thinking when I came to, I thought, damn, I'm still here.

And one time, I found your tracking device in the bracelet. For a while, I thought there was hope, and I tricked that kid vampire into leaving me alone around his computer just long enough to get the signal through. And almost as soon as I did it, I regretted it. Because here I was sending out an S.O.S. and you guys would come, only to get killed yourselves. And then Magnus had a fight with Eric, he got some other vamp to trick me again, and Eric flew off the handle. He left me alone, and all I wanted was for him to come back, to do whatever he wanted to do with me, even if it meant raping me again so he wouldn't kill you."

They were silent for the longest time. Phil finally got up from the bed and poured Frank a cup of ice water, which he accepted and handed back to Phil after a few sips.

"Do you feel better now that you've talked about it?"

"I don't know, a maybe a little. I feel like I'm no longer supporting this leaky dam that's about to burst any moment. How about you?"

"Well, I want to get a hold of Eric and absolutely fuck him up for putting his hands on you and thinking he had some right to treat you like that. You did not deserve what he did to you. And as far as you're concerned, you are the bravest, most compassionate and loving person I know. That's just a part of you that will never change. And I love you, heart, _body_ and soul. That hasn't changed either. We're going to get through this, we'll just take it one day at a time. Just don't shut me out, okay Baby?"

Frank's eyes widened at a sudden realization.

"He's still out there, isn't he Phil. He wasn't there when you and Joe came to get me. Oh my G-d…" Phil could feel the panic steadily rising in Frank.

"Hey now, shh… Calm down. Amy came to me a few weeks ago."

"What?"

"She and that kid have sworn to protect us. Your saving them has put them in your debt, for all I know they're on the rooftop of the next building like Batman or something watching out for us."

"That's kind of disconcerting and oddly reassuring at the same time." Phil chuckled at Frank's attempt at humor.

"How's the leg feeling?"

"Still hurts like bitch."

"Want something for it?"

"Motrin."

"Eeyngeshparter."

"But you love that about me too, right?"

"Always."

Frank took the prescription strength Mortrin when the nurse brought it and after about twenty minutes he relaxed deeper into the pillows.

"I don't want to sound like a five year old, but would you mind…"

"You don't sound like a kid. And I don't mind." Phil returned to his spot by Frank's side. His lips brushed Franks' cheek and the brunette smiled. His eyelids fluttered closed and soon his breathing evened out into light snores. For the first time in weeks, Frank slept peacefully through the remainder of the night.

…..

Frank was transferred to Bayport Memorial Hospital the next week. Finally well enough to be free of any tubes or wires, Phil brought Frank an assortment of t-shirts and athletic pants to wear around the hospital. A refreshing change from the drafty hospital issued gowns and robes.

Things began to go a little easier with the new psychiatric therapist. Frank's cathartic account with Phil the week before helped break down the barrier he had about talking about what happened. He still needed to be careful and revise his story of the supernatural elements, but he was feeling less frustrated after each session.

Physical therapy was another story. The first day he was allowed to put weight on his leg, he nearly passed out from the pain that lanced through his injury. By the time that session was over and he was back in his room, he was seriously considering taking the nurse up on the narcotic Dr. Barringer had sent orders for. The damage Magnus had done to Frank's leg went beyond a broken femur, there had also been muscle and nerve damage. Dr. Hamner had taken over Frank's care when he arrived at Bayport Memorial and was impressed with the progress he was making, despite the medical setbacks.

For Frank, it was not enough. He continued to do extra reps of the exercises he was learning to do in physical therapy once he was in his room despite his mother's protests.

"Sweetheart, you don't want to undo the doctor's work. You need to rest so you can heal when you get back from P.T." Laura said as she adjusted the rolling table with Frank's lunch on it.

"Mom, I'm fine."

"Fine? Fine is not shaking like a leaf and locking your jaw so tight you'll break your teeth because you're in pain and exhausted."

"Momm…" Frank whined.

"Alright, alright. I'm going to leave you to eat in peace."

"Are you meeting Gertie for lunch?"

"Yes, we're going out to lunch and then we have a few errands to run. I might not be back today, so I'll see you in the morning."

"You sure have been a busy bee lately. What's the latest project?" That caught Laura short.

"Oh, I've been doing a little redecorating, sprucing things up." Thankfully Frank lost interest quickly, decorating was never his thing. Laura gathered up her coat and shoulder bag and kissed her son goodbye.

That had been a close one. Phil had begged Laura not to say anything about the house to Frank yet. Dr. Hamner had hinted that he may release Frank from the hospital the following week. With that in mind the race was now on to finish the move from the apartment and to get the Baywood Drive house set up.

Mrs. Hardy and Gertrude pulled up in front of the house just as Biff and Joe were finishing up the temporary ramp to the front door.

"That's looking good boys!" said Laura as she admired their carpentry skills.

"Thanks Mrs. H! Would you like to try it out?" Gertrude volunteered and walked up the gentle slope and tested the boards for stability.

"That'll do it." She smiled and hugged Biff and Joe. "Thank you boys for helping out Frank and Phil."

"I wish I could be a fly on the wall when Frank sees the house for the first time." Joe said as he started picking up tools and loading them into the back of Biff's SUV. Phil overheard them talking from inside the house and came out onto the front porch to join his friends.

"I promise we'll have an official "Welcome Home" party after Frank's good and settled in. But I've been needling Dr. Hamner to release him by Valentine's Day, want to make that day special for Frank."

"I definitely don't want to be around for that." The younger Hardy pretended to gag.

"Joseph!"

"Joe, be nice. I think it's a lovely idea Phil."

"Thank you Mama Hardy." Phil gave Joe a smug smile.

…..

"This isn't the way back to the apartment Phil, is there some road construction going on?" Frank asked as Phil drove him home on Valentine's Day.

"Nope, we're taking a little detour." Phil smiled at Frank's quizzical look. Today had been full of surprises, so what was one more? The raven haired boy had shown up at the hospital shortly after lunch with a bouquet of roses and a bottle of champagne. Of course, the bubbly would have to wait until after Frank's discharge, which followed shortly when Dr. Hamner brought Frank a folder half an inch thick with orders to take to the orthopedic clinic as well as prescriptions and other after care instructions.

They pulled into the driveway of the Baywood Drive house around two o'clock that afternoon. Frank's curiosity was peaked, he didn't know anyone who lived in this neighborhood and he was in no mood to socialize.

"Phil? Why are we pulling in here? Who lives here?" Frank asked nervously.

"We do."

"What!"

Phil got out of the car to get Frank's wheelchair out of the trunk. When he came around to the passenger side of the car, he helped Frank into the chair and began to push him up the sidewalk and to the access ramp.

"I'll explain when we get inside." Phil said. When he opened the door and pushed Frank into the foyer, the brunette's eyes widened as he looked around. A feeling of déjà vu came over him and for the life of him he could not place why he felt this way.

"Do you remember me telling you about Amy's visit about a month ago?" Phil asked as he wheeled Frank into the living room.

"Yes." Frank answered shakily.

"This is part of her effort to protect us. There is an enchantment on this house. Eric, or any other supernatural creature, cannot detect our scent within a ten mile radius, and will get confused when they get too close. And this area covers my office building and your family's detective agency."

"Biff will have a conniption if he knew we were accepting help from a vampire!" Frank insisted.

"That's why he and the rest of our friends and family can't know. As far as they're concerned I've taken out a mortgage on the place. They don't have to know any different. But the deed is in our names, this is our house Babe."

"Our house." Frank's word echoed in his own head as he wheeled himself around, admiring the architecture and the contrast of the white walls and the rustic dark panels and trim. He automatically felt at ease in this house, he even found the bedroom with no problem. It was bigger than the one in the apartment, and a large, en suite bathroom adjoined the master bedroom.

"It's roomy." He commented.

"Yeah, four bedrooms, three of them are upstairs, and there's even an office or study if you will across the hall. I've converted one of the bedrooms upstairs to my office, and for now I've turned the study into an office area for you, I figured you'd want to keep up with things from the office until you're able to go back to work."

"Phil, I don't know what to say…" Frank was taken aback with surprise. He could not believe Phil and his friends and family had kept their knowledge of the house from him for almost a month. Or that Amy Johnson simply gave them a house because of the debt she owed Frank.

"Is this all a dream?" he asked finally. Phil sat in an armchair across from Frank.

"I find all this hard to believe too. But if there's anything I've learned in the last couple of months, it's that there is so much out there that we don't know about."

…..

Later Valentine's Night, Phil eased Frank into bed. He then settled in on the other side and scooted closer to his love.

"Phil?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you, for everything."

"You're welcome baby."

"I'll be glad when I'm fit enough to reciprocate."

"All you have to do is continue being the beautiful soul that you are. Concentrate on getting stronger and let someone else do the worrying for a change."

"You have a beautiful soul. I don't know what I'd do without you. I love you Phillip."

"I love you Frank. Happy Valentine's Day."

Phil placed a light kiss to Frank's lips, he felt Frank return the kiss and he settled into the pillows. Fingers woven together, and his head on his lover's shoulder, the young men fell asleep, into a sweet and peaceful first night in their new home.

Author's Note:

I'm sorry I'm a few days late with the update. RL stepped in and had a good laugh in my face. Hugs and kisses to all my readers for your patience and support. 3


	28. One Step at a Time

Chapter 28: One Step at a Time

"How does that feel Frank?" The physical therapist, Corey, asked as he secured the last of the Velcro straps on Frank's leg brace. The contraption extended from Frank's hip to his ankle, with a hinge at the knee to aid in flexion. It wasn't pretty and it fit over his sweat pants. But it was a small price to pay for a chance at better mobility, and a little independence.

"Awkward." Frank answered honestly.

"Well let's get you up and see what you can do." The therapist and his assistant, Michelle, helped Frank up from the bench and onto his feet. Frank gritted his teeth as his full weight bore down on the leg, but it didn't feel as bad with the brace on once he was got used to the sensation. Corey and Michelle moved Frank over to a set of bars for Frank to support himself with. With Michelle behind him and Cory in the front, he led with the injured leg.

"There you go, easy now." Corey smiled as Frank put the other foot forward. Frank was in a full sweat now, but he was determined to make it to the end of the walkway. His arms began to shake three quarters of the way to his goal. By the time he reached the end Corey could tell he was about to give way and nodded to Michelle. They both grabbed him and eased him to back to his chair.

"That was really good Frank. But when you get shaky like that you have to let us know, we don't want you to push yourself to the point you get weak or pass out. A fall can set you back. This is all about going forward. Got it?" Frank gave his therapist a nod. Corey looked at his partner, "I think Frank's ready for a little swim."

That was one part of physical therapy Frank actually enjoyed. In the hydrotherapy tub his natural buoyancy took the pressure and weight off of his leg and hip. He felt a little more flexible in the water, and the therapeutic quality of the warm jets eased his aches. As the warm water worked miracles for his body, his mind was busy with thoughts that drifted. His mind would venture from the comfortable delights of his and Phil's domestic life, to the ins and outs of emails, warrants and depositions he was trying to keep organized for his father and Joe, and to the looming dangers that still remained out there.

Not a day went by that he wondered, hoped, that Eric had moved on. But he knew that was a pipe dream, the look of utter betrayal and rage that was on Eric's face when Frank last saw him that night in the mansion was burned into his brain. He and Phil weren't truly safe yet, not by a long shot.

Amy would call occasionally to check in. There was still no sign of Eric from what she and Ezekiel could tell. She explained to Frank and Phil that she and Ezekiel would not be making any kind of personal contact with them because if they did run into Eric, they did not want the boys' scent on them.

"How are you and Ezekiel holding up? I know you were close to Magnus, and Eric meant a lot to you." Frank asked politely, it was the least he could do in light of Amy's generosity and protection.

"I will get over Magnus in time, he was my father, and I did love him. But he lied to me and disregarded an ideal he knew was dear to me. I think if he were alive I still would not be able to forgive him. And Eric? This is not the first time I've had to deal with an unstable child. But it is harder because he his mine."

"What did Magnus do about his "unstable" child?"

"He put him down."

"Amy…"

"I do not want that for Eric. I am hoping I can find enough humanity in him to change his mind, for him to let you go. But Frank, he could not let you go in his first life. I don't see him being able to let you go in this one."

"So you may have to kill him?"

"When you love someone, truly love them, you know that sometimes it is best to let them go. For their own happiness or protection, for yours, for that of others." Frank looked around to see where Phil was, he could hear him bumping around in his office upstairs.

"I wonder sometimes if I should do that for Phil. I love him, you know I do. But I don't want Eric to get to him, I'd rather he came after me and leave Phil alone."

"Don't be a fool Frank. You could offer yourself up on a golden platter and Eric would still see Phil as a threat as long as he lives. No, you two are safer together."

"You do realize eventually, well hopefully, I'll be well enough to go back to work. I can't stay in Bayport forever."

"I have Ezekiel working on locating Eric, he has connections. Not everyone who was at the mansion that morning perished. Some were wise enough to flee as opposed to facing a band of slayers. And in the months since your friends' raid, word of Magnus' betrayal has gotten out among our kind. I have many brothers and sisters faithful to me, despite Magnus being their father."

"Amy, I appreciate everything you've done for us. I wish I knew a way to thank you."

"Live Frank. Live your mortal life and love your Phillip. Grow old together. And someday, find it in your heart to forgive me."

…..

The smell of freshly mowed grass still lingered on the cool air that drifted through the bedroom window. Spring had arrived, and Frank was finally able to enjoy exploring their new neighborhood. He and Phil would take short walks as Frank got the hang of using his new crutches. Frank's outlook on his physicality was improving as in a few short months he had graduated from the wheelchair, to a walker (which he had loathed), to the crutches.

"Oh yeah Phil, that really feels good." Frank moaned as Phil applied a little more pressure. Phil moved his lotion slicked hands over the pale skin, kneading and pressing down with his thumbs.

"Ow! Dang!"

"Sorry! Sorry! They must have really worked you hard today." Phil apologized as he got up from the bed and put away the bottle of lotion. He pulled the leg of Frank's boxer briefs back down on his leg and climbed onto the other side of the bed.

Phil had gotten a little carried away with massaging Frank's bad leg. The slight bulge forming under Frank's pants had distracted him, reminding him of times when he would lean over and take care of that for Frank without a second thought. But he could wait. When Frank was ready to be physical in their relationship again, he'd let him know. Until then, Phil had been taking many a cold shower, or relieving the pressure of an aching hard-on in the bathroom when Frank napped or turned in early for the night.

And damn it! This was going to be one of those nights too. Phil glanced at the clock on the bedside table. Ten thirty, great. He closed his eyes and tried to think of other things, like the security system software he was upgrading. The couples-only bridal shower one of Vanessa's bridesmaids had invited he and Frank to. Joe and Vanessa's upcoming wedding. Frank in a tuxedo. Frank with his tie loosened and the first couple of buttons undone. Fuck!

Phil looked at the clock again, eleven thirteen. He could hear Frank's deep breathing. Phil got out of bed and headed for the bathroom. He stripped off his clothes and turned on the shower. He jumped in and wrapped his hand around his cock and stroked himself. The hot water stung his back but he didn't care and didn't want to take the time to adjust the temperature. It actually egged on his arousal as he pumped his full cock.

Phil closed his eyes and moaned. He could see Frank laid out under him, back arched and head thrown back in the pillows. He envisioned Frank moaning, his Adam's apple bobbing as he gasped and writhed.

"Frank, yeah baby. G-d you feel so good. Mmm…" His hand's pace sped up as heat pooled low in his belly. Phil imagined Frank touching himself, stroking as Phil thrust into him. He felt Frank squeeze down around him as white streams of cum splashed onto his belly and chest.

"Oh fu…" Phil shuddered and came hard against the shower wall. He panted and leaned his shoulder against the side of the shower. When he finally got his wits back and cleaned the evidence from the wall's surface he dried off, dressed and headed back for bed.

"Oy! Frank, what are you doing up?" Frank was sitting on the edge of the bed, facing the bathroom door.

"I could ask you the same thing. You've already had one shower this evening." Oh no, those weren't the puppy dog eyes he was getting now. Those were the ones that bore into your soul.

"I um, couldn't sleep." It was an honest answer at least.

"You were getting off, I'm not stupid or deaf." He grabbed his crutches and hobbled out of the bedroom. "I'm thirsty, gonna go get a drink of water."

"I can get it for you…"

"I can do it." Phil gave Frank a minute or two. He couldn't hear the brunette returning, so he decided to make sure Frank was okay. Phil found him sitting in the living room on the sofa.

"Babe?"

"I'm sorry Phil."

"You're sorry? I'm the one who got caught masterbating!"

"You're a healthy young man Phil, you should…"

"Frank." Phil sat beside Frank on the sofa.

"I don't know why I got mad. You've been so good to me, so patient."

"Maybe not patient enough. I'm sorry, while I was massaging your leg, I saw that you were getting a little excited. And then that's all I could think about, not just sex, but sex with you. I went in the bathroom to take care it."

"I think about it too. I miss you, us. I want to get back to where we were…"

"And we will Frank …"

"But I'm scared. I'm scared that in the heat of the moment something will trigger me, and I'll freak out, and you'll be scared to touch me…"

"So when you're ready, and you'd like to get back to where we were, we'll start slow. Kid stuff, ya know, work our way up from there. In this dance, you lead." Phil swept Frank's fringe back with his fingertips and turned the brunette's face to him. "Okay?"

"'Kay." Frank gave him a watery smile and leaned forward.

He pressed his lips to Phil's and lingered, then kissed the side of his mouth, his cheek, his jaw. Frank nuzzled the wavy hair behind Phil's ear and then pressed light kisses down his neck. Phil hummed contentedly and raised his hands to Frank's head. He threaded his fingers into Frank's chestnut strands and massaged his scalp. Frank did not break contact with Phil's neck, but pulled his body away and tugged on Phil's t-shirt to follow him as he laid back on the sofa.

Phil carefully hovered over Frank's body with his arms. But Frank tugged on his shirt more.

"I won't break." He said huskily. Phil still had his doubts, but he complied and gently rested between Frank's legs. Frank wrapped his good leg around Phil's thigh to anchor himself. He could feel Phil's firm member brush against his own. His heart started to hammer in his chest as nerves set in. This was Phil, he loved Phil. This was not Eric. This man would not hurt him.

"Talk to me!" Frank rasped. That was something Eric would never do, he rarely talked to Frank when they were intimate, but Phil would, and Phil knew how much Frank loved it.

"Talk?" Phil smirked. "Whatcha want me to talk about Baby?"

"I don't care, anything!"

"Like how good it feels to rub up against you?"

"That's a start." Frank panted as Phil rotated his hips. "What were you thinking about when you were in the shower?"

"How damn sexy you are. How good you're gonna look in a tux, and how badly I wanna strip it off of you." Phil rutted against Frank's clothed cock, the texture of his pajama pants creating a delicious friction. Frank closed his eyes tight as he rode the waves of pleasure. It had been over four months since he'd been aroused, since he'd been with Phil like this. In a way it felt like they were getting to know each other again, but with the benefit of knowing what the other one liked. Frank's breath hitched, and Phil could feel his body tense.

"Frank, open your eyes." He did, and his lover smiled. "Look at me, put your hand on my face and look at me."

Frank cupped Phil's cheeks with both hands, his thumbs running over the other's five o'clock shadow. He looked into Phil's eyes, the low lighting in the room made those honey hazel eyes appear dark, but no less inviting.

"It's just you and me Frank. We're together again, just us."

Phil turned his head and placed a kiss into Frank's palm, he brushed his lips against his thumb, and sucked the digit into his mouth.

"Shit Phil!"

"Come with me baby, c'mon." Phil said around the thumb. He thrust once more and felt Frank trembling beneath him. Phil kissed him soundly on the mouth, licking his way inside and exploring. Oh G-d, to think he once thought he'd never feel these soft lips again, to have Frank in his arms, to love him.

"I love you Frank, I love you I love you…"

"Nygaaaah!" Frank finally reached his climax and tightened his good leg's grip around Phil to compensate for his inability to thrust as he would like. Phil joined him a moment later, and laid his head on Frank's chest in a sweaty and blissful heap.

"We're a mess." Phil said at last.

"I don't care."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, more than okay. I love you Phillip." Frank wrapped his arms around Phil and kissed the top of the dark curls.


	29. Happily Ever

Chapter 29: Happily Ever…

The late afternoon sun spread jewel-toned lights through the stained-glass windows in the two hundred year old sanctuary of the First Presbyterian Church of Bayport. Frank, who was supported by a dark cane tucked inconspicuously by his side, smiled as he stood by his younger brother. Jeremiah Clarke's "Trumpet Voluntary in D Major" began to play and the rest of the wedding party filed down to the pulpit. Joe's eyes widened in delight with a grin that reached from ear to ear as the church doors opened and his bride came into view. Vanessa was radiant in her long, chapel train gown as she was escorted down the narrow aisle by her mother, Andrea.

Looking around Frank could see his and Joe's lifelong friends standing proudly for Joe. Chet and Biff looked horribly uncomfortable in their black tuxedos, Tony carried himself like he was born to wear one, otherwise, his friends cleaned up very well. Phil looked dead sexy. He had used a little gel to tame his curls and was freshly shaven. Frank forced his attention back to the pastor and the ceremony before him.

"…Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil; Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things..."*

The sanctuary was packed with family and friends of the bride and groom. Fenton held Laura as tears of joy leaked down her sweet face. A whole row was filled with the Hooper boys and their spouses or dates, including Buddy and his husband Sherman. Even Aunt Gertrude's dashing, silver haired bridge partner was in attendance.

"In as much as you, Joseph Brian, and you Vanessa Ann, have consented together in the union of matrimony and have pledged your faith each to the other in the presence of God and this company, by the authority vested in me and the state of New York, and in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, I now pronounce you Husband and Wife! Joseph, you may kiss your wife."

Joe carefully lifted the sheer veil and kissed Vanessa soundly, wrapping his arms around her and nearly going for a dip. Rev. Gibbons and the congregation chuckled until Joe and Vanessa finally stood straight, silly grins and flushes of embarrassment evident on their faces.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I now present Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Hardy!" The organist began the recessional and Joe and Vanessa walked back up the aisle, hand in hand, toward their new life together.

…..

The early summer night was refreshingly cool, but the tuxedo jacket was still a bit too warm for the weather out in the banquet hall's garden terrace. Frank shucked the jacket off and draped it across the back of his chair. His brace was starting to get a little warm under his dress pants, but he didn't know how he would have gotten through the ceremony without it. Maybe he ought to go inside the venue's men's room and take it off, it's not like he was going to do much dancing tonight. He started to lift his bad leg onto a chair next to him when Phil caught him.

"Oh no you don't, I want to get a slow dance in before you get too comfortable."

"Just one then I'm taking this wretched thing off for the rest of the night." Frank left his cane resting against the table as Phil led him to the outdoor dance floor.

"Would you like to lead?" Phil asked as he faced his boyfriend and pulled him close. Frank nodded, but he knew Phil only asked to make him feel better. He leaned against Phil, resting his head on the dark haired boy's shoulder and felt the gentle vibrations of Phil's humming to the tune the D.J. had playing.

Frank wished time could just freeze, here and now; safe in the arms of his lover, without a care in the world. The heady smell of summer blossoms wafted through the breeze, the sounds of hearty laughter and merry making were all around them. This was a night all about love, of happily ever after, and new beginnings. If only things could stay this way forever…

"We've got trouble." Biff said quietly as he and Buddy brushed passed Phil and Frank. They followed his gaze to the rooftop of an adjacent building where they saw a familiar silhouette against the moonlight.

"Crap! No Biff, wait!" But Biff was already making his way to the alley next to the back garden.

"Frank stay here." Phil urged.

"No fucking way!" Frank hobbled to their table and grabbed his cane to help him keep up with the small group in pursuit. He was out of breath by the time he caught up to them in the alley. The scene resembled that of a dog barking at a cat up in a tree.

"What do you think you're doing here? I thought _you_ didn't feed on the innocent?" Biff bellowed to the figure above.

"I don't, I'm simply here on patrol."

"Patrol my ass!"

"Some other time, Cutie. I'm here watching out for them." She pointed down to Phil and Frank. "Good evening gentlemen. I must finally admit, you do make a cute couple."

"Why are you stalking them? You promised us you'd stay out of our territory."

"Actually, I promised your grandfather, Mr. Hooper, not you pups. Incidentally, I'm sorry to hear of his passing, he was a noble adversary."

"Why you…" Biff growled.  
"And I am not stalking your friends, young slayer. I am making sure a certain vampire keeps his distance."

"What are you talking about? What is she talking about?" Biff turned to his friends.

"Eric's still out there, he didn't die in the mansion explosion and fire." Phil said quietly.

"Anything else you're not telling me?" Biff looked hurt. Phil and Frank looked to each other.

"Because I helped save her and her vampire child, she's owes me her life, it's some sort of vampire code, thing..."

"Oh for the love of…" Biff threw his hands in the air. Amy hopped down from her perch and sauntered over to the group.

"What kind of shit are you trying to pull blood sucker?" Buddy demanded as he charged forward.

"Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?" She side-stepped as Buddy lunged, he missed her entirely and stumbled to the pavement. "I would not even be here this evening if you were not so close to the border of your protection."

"Border of protection? What have you two gotten into now?" Biff was not happy, Frank and Phil figured he wouldn't be. That was why they had kept Amy and Ezekiel's pact of protection secret thus far.

"She ah… she had a witch enchant our house and the area around it." Phil explained, Amy raised an eyebrow at him, he had left a few details out, but he gave her a meaningful look and she caught on quickly.

"You're dealing with witches?" Biff's reddened face paled suddenly.

"Well, the good kind, right Amy?" Frank amended.

"There aren't any good witches, just like there aren't any good vampires!" Biff argued.

"Just as there are no good werewolves, no good slayers, or no good humans?" Amy countered. "There is good and bad in everything. It all depends on your point of view."

The vampire was in Biff's face now, but she did not bare her teeth. Biff's face flushed again and his heart started to pound as he looked straight into her obsidian black eyes.

"Don't try any of your vampire voodoo on me lady." But Amy balked.

"I'm not doing a thing! If I were you would be on your knees licking my Jimmy Choo's this very moment." she hissed. Biff blinked and stepped back as Amy directed her attention to Frank and Phil.

"Your brother will be missing you shortly. I suggest you enjoy the rest of your evening while I resume my watch. Good night gentlemen." With a running start she leapt back onto her rooftop, leaving the four men alone in the alley.

"Damn Biff, if I didn't know better I'd say she liked you." Biff shoved his cousin and stomped back to the reception.

…..

"Where have you guys been? It's just about time for the garter and bouquet toss." Chet asked as Biff and the others made it back to the reception. Biff didn't answer him, but flopped down onto a chair at their table and took a long drink of water.

"We had an unexpected guest. That vampire that Papa let live has been playing guardian angel over Frank and Phil." supplied Buddy as he joined Biff at the table. Chet choked on his drink in surprise.

"Do what?" He sat down to recover and looked to Phil and Frank for answers as they reached the table as well.

"Look, I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, but this is exactly how I thought you would react."

"No shit Cohen! How can you accept help from one of them?" Biff was getting hot under the collar again.

"She's Eric's mother, creator, whatever. She's gotten to know him better than any of us ever did, even me. And she knows how an unstable vampire like Eric thinks." Frank tried to explain as he sat down heavily on the chair next to his friend. "She and the kid Ezekiel were kind to me when I was Eric's captive. Even when Eric had a… a fight with Magnus and left me alone among them, they looked after me and protected me from the others. She's sorry for having helped Eric kidnap me. She asked me to forgive her someday."

"Will you?" Biff asked as he put his glass of ice water down on the table.

"I don't know."

…..

Frank was hot and sticky from the humidity as a low pressure system moved into the area later in the night. The cool air from the house's central air unit was a welcome relief as he and Phil entered their home.

"Oy, thank G-d this is a rental, I'd hate to have to worry about getting this thing dry cleaned as much as I sweated in it this evening." Phil groused as he tossed his jacket onto a chair by their bed. Frank watched as Phil loosened his tie and turned to face him.

Some of his dark curls had come lose from the gel's hold and a sheen of sweat glistened on his neck and collar bone. Frank swallowed dryly as he let his eyes feast on the way Phil's dress shirt clung to him. He was still a little buzzed from that last glass of champagne, but he didn't think it was the alcohol contributing to the feeling stirring low in his body now.

"Frank? You okay Babe?" Phil stepped closer and tugged on Frank's tie playfully.

"Have I told you lately how damn sexy you are?"

"Well, not in the last five minutes." He smiled.

Frank tossed his cane onto the chair as well and pulled Phil to him, their mouths crashing together in a messy clack of teeth and a war of exploring tongues. Phil nipped at Frank's bottom lip, teasing it then swiping it with his tongue.

He felt Frank begin to sway so he edged him carefully to the bed. Frank felt the mattress behind his calves and began to stiffly lower himself down. Phil held on to him until he was settled and then started to work the brunette's belt loose. It took a little more maneuvering, but he finally rid Frank of his dress pants and began undoing his lover's leg brace. Once freed of the device Frank grabbed Phil by the collar of his shirt and pulled him down onto him and flexed his hip just enough to brush against Phil's hardness.

"Fuck! Ah Frank, you feel so damn good." Phil praised as he attacked Frank's neck with his lips. Frank's head swam with excitement and desire as Phil blazed a trail of hot kisses down his neck and to his chest.

"Phil…I want you…I need you to…fuck me, please!" Frank rasped as he rutted against Phil again and again. Phil pulled away for a moment and kissed Frank sweetly on the lips.

"I'm not going to fuck you Frank." Frank whined but Phil pressed another kiss to his mouth.

"I'll make love to you." He smiled and traced the outline of Frank's jaw.

"How do you want to do this tonight?"

"I want you, inside me."

"Are you sure? I don't mind…"

"Yes! I'm ready Phil. I want you to take back what belongs to you. I want to feel you inside me. Claim me, mark me, make me yours again."

"Baby, no. You're already mine, and I'm yours, forever."

"Phillip, I need this! Please!" Phil buried his face in the crook of Frank's neck to collect his thoughts.

"Okay, but I don't want to hurt your leg." He stood up from the bed and stripped off his shirt and pants quickly. Phil helped Frank out of what was left of his clothes and joined him back on the bed.

"Get on your side baby." Frank turned and Phil sidled up behind him, reaching around and stroking Frank's reddened cock. Frank felt around behind him and dug his fingers into Phil's hip, pushing him closer. Phil's shaft brushed between the crevice of Frank's ass and the brunette shivered.

"Your ass feels so good, so firm. I wanna put my face down there and lick you out." Frank moaned at Phil's dirty words. Phil removed his hand from around Frank's now leaking cock and brushed his center with the gentlest of touches.

"Ah!" He shivered again, but instead of shying away, Frank arched his back and pressed against the exploring fingers. He didn't know how he missed seeing Phil get out the lube, but he heard the soft click of the cap opening. Then cool, wet fingers were pressing against his hole again.

Frank remembered to breathe out as Phil made his first intrusion. It was like their first time all over again, but at least he had an idea of what to expect. Phil pressed kisses to the back of his neck, occasionally nipping at the skin of his shoulder as he pumped and worked his finger, then fingers, in and out of Frank.

"You just love my fingers in your ass, don't you Baby?"

"Uh, yeah… but your cock… I want your cock." Encouraged by Frank's babbling and begging, and sure that Frank was thoroughly prepared, Phil removed his fingers and lined himself up to enter Frank for the first time in over six months. As his head was swallowed up by the tight muscles, he listened to Frank's breathing, the sharp intakes and the satisfied releases until he was finally buried to the hilt.

Frank lifted his good leg to allow them both a little more leverage, Phil cupped his hand under his knee to lend some support and he thrust forward experimentally.

"Fuck, Phil! So good. Ah!" Frank's broken cry echoed off the walls, and soon the only sounds in the bedroom were the moans and grunts of the lovers, the slapping of skin on skin, and the creaking of the box springs. Phil slowed his movements and shifted the position of his hips. Frank jerked, then shuddered as wave after wave of pleasure came from Phil's dick touching that precious bundle of nerves.

"Ph… soon…I'm com…" Frank tried in vain to catch his breath to communicate to Phil what was about to happen.

"It's okay, c'mon…I'm right…there…"

The brunette yelled out as his orgasm slammed into him. Phil shuddered and stilled as Frank clenched around him, and rode the pleasure into oblivion.

…..

"Shit!" Phil's eyes snapped open when he heard the sharp curse. He raised his head just enough to see a light coming from the bathroom.

"Frank?"

"It's okay, just dropped the washcloth on the floor." By now Phil as standing in the doorway of the bathroom, he watched a naked Frank hobble about the room and turn on the shower.

"Why didn't you wake me up?"

"You just looked so peaceful." Frank smiled as he reached in and tested the water. "Wanna join me?"

"Always."

Author's Note:

One more chap to go!

*Though I speak with the …. – I Corinthians 13, KJV Bible


	30. Fireworks

Chapter 30: Fireworks

Phil leaned back on the quilt he had spread on the knoll and sighed contentedly. The picnic dinner earlier that evening at the Morton Farm had been more than filling. He was just this side of miserable. Thank goodness he'd stopped eating when he had.

Frank sipped on the bottled water they had brought along for the town's Independence Day fireworks display. He looked past Phil's head to see his brother and sister-in-law making out on their quilt.

"I know you're honeymooners, but let's keep it PG. This is a family show." Frank teased just as two or three squealing kids waving sparklers ran by.

"Wait until you two are the honeymooners, see if you can keep your hands off each other then!" Joe retorted. Phil's face colored at the comment but Frank seemed oblivious and took another gulp of water.

The pop and hiss of the first missile shot upward, and a bloom of color lit up the night sky with a thunderous boom. Frank pushed himself closer to Phil, and the dark haired boy draped his arm around Frank's shoulders as they enjoyed the show. Oo's and Ah's and applause rose up from the city park, all eyes skyward.

Frank looked around them nervously to see if anyone was looking their way. His heart sped up and his hands were getting clammy. He shifted away from Phil and his boyfriend looked at him with concern.

"Frank, Baby? What are you doing?" Frank was on all fours and pushing upward until he was resting on his good knee, the other was propped up, but wobbling. Frank cursed under his breath, as he tried to maintain his balance. Phil grabbed his hands to keep him from toppling over. Finally Frank resolved to sit back down on his butt, facing Phil.

"What was that all about?" Phil asked as Frank ran a frustrated hand through his hair.

"I was trying to do something, do it right." Another of the pyrotechnics went off and Phil could see the flustered look on Frank's face.

"Well, you've got my attention, what's up?"

Frank grasped one of Phil's hands with one of his, and looked straight into those eyes he loved so much. He reached into the utility pocket of his cargo shorts and withdrew a square, velvet covered box.

"This year, my eyes have been opened to things I thought were never possible. From _beyond the strange_, to finding out that it's okay to open your heart and love someone, learning to trust someone with your own heart, and finding that in the end, when the dust clears, they'll still be there. I can feel all of that when I'm with you Phillip. I don't want to shut you out. I want to share everything with you. You said a few weeks ago that you would be mine forever. You should know that I'm yours forever too. And I know it's not the traditional route to go, but…" Frank handed Phil the box.

"Phillip Aaron Cohen, will you do me the greatest honor and officially be mine? Will you marry me?" Phil was at a loss. Never in a hundred years would he think Frank would make such a bold move, and so soon. But when Frank Hardy had made up his mind to do something, he saw it through, G-d love him.

Yet this was Phil's heart's desire too, to walk through life with Frank, for better or worse. They both knew there would be dangers ahead, Frank did not have the safest profession, and the revelations of the supernatural world were still so new. But he loved Frank, and he wanted this. Yes.

"Yes. Yes Frank, I'll marry you." Phil reached out with both hands and pulled Frank to him, kissing him, not caring if half of Bayport could see them or not. A few wolf whistles and cat calls brought them back to the here and now. Phil sniffed loudly and Frank tried to wipe a few unshed tears of happiness.

"Well, aren't you going to open it?" Frank asked finally. Phil opened the box to reveal a silver bracelet similar to the one he had given Frank for Christmas. This one had the same scrolling pattern, with the exception being the center gem was a brilliant topaz.

"This is beautiful Babe."

"Read the back!" Frank said excitedly.

"_Ani Ohev Otcha_." It was now Phil's turn to tear up as his eyes began to sting.

From the quilt beside the newly engaged couple, Joe leaned over to his wife and whispered in her ear.

"Van, I think you've got another wedding to plan."

…..

Five hundred and fifty miles south, in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Parkway, Earl Hodnett cracked open an ice cold can of Coors. He took a nice long drink of it and settled back into his lawn chair. Under the cover of the thickly foliaged canopy he kept an eye on his investment.

"Donna promised to save us some hamburgers and hot dogs if we didn't make it to supper. I'm gonna head to the house and pick some up, you want anything else while I'm there?" asked his business partner, Terry. Earl shook his nearly empty can of beer.

"Few more of these if ya don't mind, it's gonna be a long night."

"Will do!" Earl heard the diesel engine of Terry's pick up fire and then take off. He finished off his beer and dropped the can into a WalMart bag he had hooked onto the arm of his lawn chair. His seven year old blue tick hound, Sadie, ambled over and laid her head on his knee. He scratched the old dog behind her ear.

"Yeah, I'll give ya somethin' when he gets back." Sadie gave a little whine then rested her head on his boot covered foot. Suddenly her ears perked up and she sat up, fully alert.

"What is it girl?" The hairs on her back bristled and she lowered her head in a protective stance in front of her master, emitting a warning growl. What Sadie was hearing finally reached his own ears and Earl lifted his shotgun, ready to fire.

"Who's 'ere?" The sound was faint, but he could now definitely hear footsteps in the distance.

Damn it! The man thought, as careful as he'd been for the last few years, his worst nightmare was now playing out. The ATF had finally found his still. Shit!

He dosed the light of the butane lamp and started kicking dirt over the fire under the drum. Earl ran out from the cover of the canopy to his pickup. Sadie jumped into the truck bed as Earl climbed into the cab. While he was waiting for the glow plugs to warm up he realized he was not alone. He flashed on the cab light to surprise his attacker and shoved his shot gun at him.

Sitting in the passenger seat was a very tall, pale man with bright red hair. He wasn't dressed like any ATF agent Earl had ever seen. He wasn't dressed like anyone with an ounce of sense for that matter. It was humid, eighty-nine degrees and the middle of summer. This fool was wearing a white pants suit with a purplish shirt and an even darker purple tie.

"Earl Hodnett?"

"Who the hell 're you?"

"I hear you're good at what you do."

"You didn't answer my question!"

"I'm not here to talk about your illegal brewery. I'm here about your other vocation."

Earl paled, it had been years since he'd been called on for his other talents. Truth be known he'd rather it stay that way, he had a wife and kids to support after all. He didn't like the other side of himself, the side that gave him his extra talent. His dad had always said to look at it as a blessing, but he didn't see how he could. To him it was a curse.

The stranger looked at him and pulled a bundle from his jacket. The bundle looked like it was made of a torn material, when he saw a button he realized it was part of a torn shirt. The red haired man handed him the bundle.

"I need you to track this for me. I'm willing to compensate you for your efforts."

Earl pulled on the edges of the material and found a scratched up, but still shiny silver bracelet, there must have been a jewel in the center at one time but it was gone. He turned it over and read the inscription.

_I won't lose you._

The End of Part I

Author's Note:

Thank you all so much for your readership and words of encouragement for my first multi-chaptered fic.

A special shout out goes to my new friend across the pond who has reviewed this story so faithfully.

I hope this story did not disappoint and I look forward to picking up where this story leaves off in "Moon River." Expect the first chapter before the end of the month.

Love and hugs to you all!

Hollyboo2001


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